H^wnttt 


BY 


MRS.  HARRIET  PARKS  MILLER 


UNIVERSITY    OF   NORTH   CAROLINA 


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THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 

DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 

SOCIETIES 


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pioneei^  Colored  Ghi^istiang 


BY 


HARRIET  PARKS  MILLER 


"The  primitive  order  with  its  picturesque 
types,  has  passed  with  the  days  that  are 
dust.  The  mirthful  banjo  is  mute,  and  the 
laughter,  songs,  and  shouts  of  the  old  plan- 
tation quarters  no  longer  float  out  on  the 
evening  air." 


S-30-73 


^^ 


1^ 


M5 


CLARKSVILLE,   TENN. 

W.  P.  TITUS,  PRINTER  AND   BINDER 

—  1911— 


TO  THE  READER. 


In  the  busy  rush  of  Hfe,  the  virtues  of  single 
individuals  too  often  escape  notice,  or  make  but 
slight  impression  on  the  minds  of  their  contem- 
poraries. It  is  in  after  years,  when  the  actors 
are  dead  and  gone,  that  their  virtues  shine  forth, 
and  speak  from  the  silence,  through  the  pen 
of  some  one  who  catches  them  before  it  is  too 
late. 

No  history  is  richer,  or  more  beautiful,  than 
that  written  of  lives  led  by  wisdom,  and  good- 
ness. 

The  writing  of  this  little  book  is  inspired  by  a 
desire  to  perpetuate,  as  examples,  the  lives  of 
such  people.  While  the  trend  of  my  thoughts 
will  center *t.  around  one  special  family,  — the 
Carrs — I  shall  not  omit  honorable  mention  of 
other  colored  citizens,  who  walked  upright  among 
their  fellow  men. 

I  shall  also  make  mention  of  leading  white 
people  who  befriended  the  colored  race  in  its 
early  struggles  for  religious  liberty. 

I  write  with  the  hope,  that  what  I  say,  will 
have  a  tendency  to  deepen  the  sympathy,  and 
kind  feeling  which  should  ever  exist  between  the 
two  races  living  together  in  the  South. 

The  Author. 
Port  Royal,  Tenn.,  July,  1911. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  I. 

Interview  with  Aunt  Kitty  Carr,  September, 
1901,  in  which  she  tells  of  her  birth  in  Virginia, 
1815. 

At  six  years  of  age,  she  was  given  by  her  mother 
to  Mrs.  Edmond  Winston,  who  one  year  later, 
brought  her  to  Tennessee.  Marriage  in  early  life 
to  Rev.  Horace  Carr. 

She  was  free  born;  effort  to  deprive  her  of  her 
birth  right. 

By  the  assistance  of  kind  white  friends,  she  is 
enabled  to  legally  establish  her  freedom. 

Reading  of  Prayer  Book. 

Chapter  II. 

Rev.  Horace  Carr. 

His  birth  in  Spring  Creek  neighborhood,  in  1812. 

Belonged  to  Aquilla  Johnson,  and  was  sold  for 

a  division  of  the  estate.     Bought  by  Mr.  James 

0^  Carr,  of  Port  Royal,  Montgomery  county,  Tenn. 

^        After  master's  death,  he  hires  himself  from  his 

^^    mistress,  and  locates  on  a  retired  spot  near  "Horse 


Shoe  Bend"  of  Red  River,  by  permission  of  Mr. 
William  Weatherford,  its  owner.  Mode  of  making 
a  living.  Joins  Red  River  Church,  and  is  ordained 
to  preach.  Invitation  by  Mr.  E.  L.  Fort,  to 
preach  on  his  premises. 

Chapter  III. 

Worship  of  the  two  races  together,  in  ante- 
bellum times. 

Department  in  white  churches  for  colored  wor- 
shippers. 

Civil  war  brings  changes,  and  they  have  churches 
and  schools  of  their  own. 

Sketch  of  Dr.  P.  F.  Norfleet,  of  Port  Royal, 
Tenn.,  who  gave  land  on  which  to  build  Mount 
Zion,  one  of  the  first  colored  churches  in  Middle 
Tennessee. 

Amusing  story  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ed.  Hawkins, 
of  Turnersville,  Robertson  county,  Tenn. 

Chapter  IV. 

Aunt  Kitty  describes  her  vision,  or  dream,  in 
which  the  future  Mount  Zion  appeared  to  her. 
It  takes  tangible  form,  and  Rev.  Horace  Carr 
assembles  his  people  under  a  large  white  oak  tree 
on  the  lot  donated  by  Dr.  Norfleet,  and  assisted 
by  Revs.  Chess  Ware,  and  Ben  Thomas,  of  Guthrie, 
Ky.,  organizes  the  church. 
4 


First  house  of  worship  soon  erected.  Too 
small,  and  later  torn  away  to  give  place  to  larger 
building. 

Two  buildings  burned,  but  the  faithful  Chris- 
tians did  not  lose  hope. 

List  of  charter  members. 

Younger  generation  following  the  religious  foot- 
steps of  their  ancestors. 

Mr.  William  Bourne  gives  lot  for  burying 
ground. 

Chapter  V. 

Rev.  Althens  Carr. 

Birth  and  early  life.  Obtains  education  under 
great  difficulties. 

An  eloquent  pulpit  orator. 

Two  funeral  sermons  heard  by  the  writer. 

William,  and  Jack  Northington,  two  worthy 
brothers. 

Why  Uncle  Arter  Northington  was  called 
"Paul'" 

Chapter  VI. 

Rev.  Horace  Carr  tells  of  an  antebellum  corn 
shucking  on  Mr.  Waters'  farm. 

Describes  great  excitement  in  Port  Royal  neigh- 
borhood, the  night  the  stars  fell,  November,  1833. 

Chapters  III. 
Rev.  J.  W.  Carr. 


First  work  from  home,  and  beginning  of  his 
education. 

Letter  of  appreciation  to  Port  Royal  friend,  a 
short  time  before  his  death  at  Savannah,  Georgia, 
August,  1907. 

Statistics  showing  great  progress  of  the  colored 
Baptists  of  United  States,  Georgia  leading  the 
Southern  States  along  this  line. 

Chapter  VIII. 

Interview  with  Rev.  Luke  Fort  (col.,)  of  Guthrie, 
Ky.,  in  w^hich  he  tells  of  first  sermon  he  ever  heard 
Rev.  Horace  Carr  preach. 

Was  the  latter 's  son-in-law  nineteen  years. 
Describes  a  patroler  raid  on  a  quiet  meeting  being 
held  one  Saturday  night  on  the  E.  L.  Fort  plan- 
tation. 

Joe  Gaines  'opossum,  cooked  for  the  Port  Royal 
merchants,  turns  to  a  housecat,  and  he  is  made 
to  eat  same. 

History  of  Benevolent  Treasure  Society,  No.  7. 

Chapter  XI. 
Visit    to    Aunt    Eliza    Gaines    Williams.     She 
talks  pleasantly  of  her  white  people,  the  Norfleets, 
and  Gaines'. 

Describes    last    visit    to    Rev.     Horace    Carr. 
Second  visit,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  her  picture. 
She  was  eight}  -two,  and  this  was  her  first  picture. 
6 


Dan,  and  Jerry  Fort,  aid  materially  in  securing 
Mount  Zion  Church  history. 
Uncle  John  McGowan. 
His  early  life. 

Tells  of  a  chicken  fry,  and  what  it  cost  him. 
Describes  how  he  was  sold. 
Passing  events  of  his  life. 

Chapter  X. 

Tribute  to  the  late  E.  L.  Fort. 
History  of  Port  Royal,  Tennnessee. 

Chapter  XI. 

Passing  of  four  of  the  most  prominent  members 
of  the  Carr  family. 

Sketch  of  Captain  C.  N.  Carney,  one  of  the 
early  settlers  of  Montgomery  county. 

Loyalty  of  his  colored  people,  beginning  first, 
with  Uncle  Isaac,  the  faithful  blacksmith  on  the 
Carney  plantation. 

Rev.  Peter  Carney  (col.),  Presbyterian  minister, 
and  remarkable  character. 

Aleck  Carney,  a  useful  citizen,  and  church 
worker. 

Betsy  Neblett,  his  late  sister,  the  "Good  Samar- 
itan" of  her  neighborhood. 

Closing  remarks. 


CHAPTER  1. 


THEY    HAVE    GONE    FROM    OUR    MORTAL    VISION, 
BUT  IN  MEMORIES  SWEET,  THEY  ABIDE  WITH  US." 


The  people  whom  you  will  meet  in  this  little 
book  did  not  live  in  fancy. 

They  were  humble  instruments  through  whom 
God  sent  a  message  clear,  and  strong,  that  will 
go  on,  and  on,  through  the  coming  years. 

Realizing  the  rapidity  with  which  the  good  old 
colored  types  were  passing  away,  I  went  one 
September  afternoon,  1901,  to  see  Aunt  Kitty 
Carr,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  some  interesting 
facts  concerning  herself,  and  her  remarkable 
family. 

Her  husband,  Uncle  Horace  Carr,  had  been 
dead  twenty-four  years,  and  she  was  then  living 
with  her  son  Horace,  at  his  farm  on  Red  River, 
a  mile  or  two  from  Port  Royal,  Tennessee. 

I  found  her  on  the  back  porch  peeling  peaches 
to  dry,  and  when  I  made  known  to  her  the  intent 
of  my  visit,  she  was  amused,  and  said,  "Lor  Miss 


Aunt  Kitty  Carr. 


Harriet,  what  am  /  say,  that  will  be  worth  read- 
ing in  a  book?" 

On  assuring  her  of  the  esteem  in  which  she  and 
her  family  were  held,  and  the  importance  of  such 
lives  being  left  on  tangible  record,  she  seemed 
willing  to  tell  me,  in  her  quaint  way,  what  I 
wished  to  know. 

Aunt  Kitty  was  a  small  yellow  woman,  of 
refined  features,  and  dignified  bearing. 

She  spoke  as  follows: 

"Of  course  you  have  heard  that  I  was  free 
born?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "you  were  the  first  free  born 
person  of  your  race,  that  I  ever  saw." 

"I  was  born  near  Spottssylvania,  Virginia,  in 
1815.  That's  been  a  long  time  ago.  I'll  soon 
be  eighty-six  years  old.  My  children,  and  grand- 
children are  kind  to  me,  and  don't  want  me  to 
work,  but  I  am  not  satisfied  to  sit  idle. 

My  father  was  a  Frenchman  of  some  importance, 
by  the  name  of  Truell;  my  only  recollection  of 
him  was  his  long  curly  hair  that  came  down  to 
his  shoulders.  My  mother  was  free  born,  and 
gave  me  away. 

"One  bright  spring  day  she  was  sweeping  her 

front  yard,  and  I,  a  little  girl  of  six  years,  was 

taking   up   the   trash,    that   she   swept   together, 

when  a  pretty  white  girl  sixteen,  or  seventeen, 

9 


rode  past  the  gate,  and  called  for  a  drink  of  water. 
As  she  handed  the  drinking  gourd  back,  she  said, 
'That's  a  handy  little  girl  you  have  there,  I  wish 
you'd  give  her  to  me.'  'All  right,'  mother  replied, 
and  the  lady  passed  on,  and  nothing  more  was 
thought  of  it,  till  nearly  a  year  afterward,  a  nice 
covered  wagon  drove  up  to  our  gate,  and  the 
same  lady  called  for  me. 

"A  few  days  before,  she  had  married  a  Mr. 
Edmond  Winston,  and  they  were  going  to  house- 
keeping. 

"My  mother  gathered  together  my  little  budget 
of  clother,  and  handed  little  Kitty,  and  the 
clothes  over  to  the  colored  driver,  saying,  'Here 
take  her.' 

"And  they  took  me;  I  have  never  thought 
mother  acted  right. 

"The  new  married  couple  lived  in  Virginia 
about  a  year  after  that,  when  they  decided  to 
come  to  Tennessee,  and  brought  me  with  them. 
We  came  a  long  journey,  in  that  same  covered 
wagon,  and  settled  in  District  No.  1 ,  Montgomery 
county,  near  where  Fortson's  Spring  now  is. 

"They  were  as  kind  to  me,  as  they  could  be, 
and  I  was  content  to  stay  with  them. 

"After  coming  to  Tennessee,  Mr.  Winston  did 
not  live  very  long,  and  his  widow,  after  a  respec- 
table time,  married  a  Mr.  Coleman,  grandfather 
10 


of  the  first  Mrs.  Polk  Prince,  and  great  grandfather 
of  Mrs.  Lewis  Downer,  of  Guthrie,  Ky. 

"But  I  was  always  called  Kitty  Winston. 
The  Colemans  and  Johnsons  were  related,  and 
through  their  visiting  from  Fortson  Spring  neigh- 
borhood to  Spring  Creek,  farther  down  toward 
Clarksville,  I  met  my  lifetime  companion. 

"He  was  the  property  of  Mr.  Aquilla  Johnson, 
of  Spring  Creek,  and  was  first  known  as  Horace 
Johnson. 

"We  were  married  when  we  were  both  quite 
young.  Soon  after  our  marriage,  it  was  necessary 
to  make  a  division  of  the  property,  and  Mr. 
Johnson  sold  my  husband  to  Mr.  James  Carr,  of 
Port  Royal,  grandfather  of  Mr.  Ed,  and  Ross 
Bourne. 

We  had  not  been  long  settled  down  to  quiet, 
peaceable  living  in  our  little  cabin  home,  when 
it  began  to  be  whispered  around  among  a  cruel 
class  of  white  people  called  overseers,  that  I  could 
be  deprived  of  my  free  birth  right,  and  made  a 
slave.  Of  course  it  made  me  very  unhappy,  and 
I  prayed  earnestly  over  the  matter. 

I  went  to  sertain  good  white  friends  who  had 
known  me  longest,  and  laid  the  case  before  them, 
and  they  advised  me  to  go  to  Esq.  Dick  Blount, 
of  Fortson 's  Spring,  and  he  would  fix  up  some 

11 


papers  that  would  establish  my  freedom  for  all 
time  to  come. 

"I  put  out  for  the  Blount  home  in  haste,  my 
husband  going  with  me.  When  we  reached  there, 
a  member  of  the  Esquire's  family  told  me  he  was 
drunk,  but  if  I  could  wait  an  hour  or  two,  he 
might  be  sober  enough  to  talk  to  me.  Of  course 
I  waited.  We  were  seated  in  the  back  yard,  and 
a  quiet  couple  we  were,  for  it  was  a  solemn  time 
in  our  lives. 

"By,  and  by,  we  saw  the  Esquire  came  out  on 
the  back  porch,  and  washed  his  face.  I  whispered 
and  asked  Horace,  if  he  reckoned  he  was  washing 
the  drunk  off. 

"We  walked  up  to  the  door,  and  told  our  mis- 
sion; Esq.  Blount  advised  us  to  go  on  to  Clarks- 
ville,  and  said  he  would  follow  on  shortly. 

"We  waited,  and  waited,  on  the  Court  House 
steps,  and  I  had  about  decided  he  was  not  coming, 
when  we  looked  up  the  street,  and  saw  him. 

"He  took  an  iron  square,  and  measured  my 
height,  wrote  a  description  of  my  features,  and 
asked  me  if  there  were  any  scars  on  my  body.  I 
knew  of  none,  except  a  small  one  the  size  of  a 
silver  dime,  on  the  back  of  my  neck,  caused  from 
the  deep  burning  of  a  fly  blister.  I  showed  him 
that. 

"He  kindly  fixed  up  the  papers,  and  handed 

12 


them  to  me.  I  kept  them  closely  guarded,  till 
my  oldest  daughter,  Mary  X^'aters,  was  going  to 
move  to  the  State  of  Ohio  to  live,  and  not  knowing 
what  might  happen  to  her  there,  she  asked  me 
for  them,  and  I  willingly  gave  them  to  her.  I 
always  regretted  that  I  did  not  keep  a  copy,  for 
it  would  be  a  curiosity  to  the  present  genera- 
tion." 

As  she  quietly  sat,  and  told  me  all  this,  her 
grand  daughter,  Eleanora  Carr  Johnson,  was  an 
attentive  listener,  never  having  before,  heard  such 
details  of  antebellum  history.  The  afternoon 
seemed  too  short;  so  pleasant  was  the  interview 
that  I  regretted  not  having  gone  oftener,  to  see 
her.  She  referred  incidentally  to  a  little  prayer 
book,  "Morning  and  Night  Watches,"  by  Rev. 
J.  R.  McDuff,  D.  D.,  from  which  I  had  often  read 
to  her,  in  days  gone  by,  and  expressed  a  desire  to 
hear  a  certain  chapter  once  more. 

Feeling  that  she  would  enjoy  hearing  it,  I  had 
carried  the  little  book  along  with  me,  and  read 
to  her  as  follows:  "May  it  be  mine  to  cheerfully 
follow  the  footstexjs  of  the  guiding  Shepherd 
through  the  darkest,  loneliest  road,  and  amidst 
thickest  sorrows  may  I  have  grace  to  say,  'Though 
He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him.'  " 

"Lord,  increase  my  faith,  let  it  rise  above  all 
trials,   and  difficulties.     And   if  they   arise,   may 

13 


they  only  drive  me  closer  to  Him  who  has  promised 
to  make  me  more  than  conqueror.  I  am  a  pil- 
grim, pitching  my  tent  day,  by  day,  nearer 
heaven,  imbibing  every  day  more  of  the  pilgrim 
character,  and  longing  more  for  the  pilgrim's  rest. 

"May  I  be  enabled  to  say,  with  the  chastened 
spirit  of  a  passing  world,  'Here  I  have  no  con- 
tinuing city.' 

"May  this  assurance  reconcile  me  to  all  things- 

"Lord,  hasten  Thy  coming,  and  Thy  kingdom. 

"Scatter  the  darkness  that  is  hovering  over 
heathen  nations. 

"Stand  by  Thy  Missionary  servants.  Enable 
us  all,  to  be  living  more  from  day  to  day,  on  Thy 
grace,  to  rely  on  Thy  guiding  arm  with  more 
childlike  confidence,  looking  with  a  more  simple 
faith  to  Thy  finished  work. 

"Be  the  God  of  all  near,  and  dear  to  me. 

"May  all  my  ties  of  blood,  scattered  far  and 
wide  over  the  earth,  be  able  to  claim  a  spiritual 
relationship  with  Thee,  so  that  those  earthly 
bonds  of  attachment,  which  sooner  or  later,  must 
snap  asunder  here,  be  renewed,  and  perpetuated 
before  the  great  white  throne." 

As  I  read,  she  clasped  her  hands  and  looked 
reverently  upward,  as  if  her  soul  were  drinking 
in  the  spirit  of  the  great  writer. 

She  followed  me  to  the  front  gate,  and  thanked 
me  for  my  visit. 

It  was  the  last  time  I  ever  saw  her. 

14 


CHAPTER  II. 


MARK    THE     PERFECT     MAN,     AND     BEHOLD    THE 
UPRIGHT,    FOR   THE    END    OF   THAT   MAN    IS    PEACE." 


Having  given  my  opening  chapter  to  an  inter- 
view with  Aunt  Kitty,  I  will  now  tell  of  her  hus- 
band, Rev.  Horace  Carr,  who  was  born  on  the 
Aquilla  Johnson  farm,  on  Spring  Creek,  in  District 
No.  1,  Montgomery  county,  Tenn.,  1812.  By 
way  of  explanation,  I  will  state  that  white  children, 
in  antebellum  times,  were  taught  by  their  parents, 
to  call  middle  aged  colored  people  Aunt,  and 
Uncle;  hence  "Aunt  Kitty,"  and  "Uncle  Horace," 
by  the  writer. 

From  early  childhood,  Uncle  Horace  was  noted 
for  his  truth,  and  honesty. 

In  maturer  years,  strongers  who  met  him  on 
the  highway,  were  impressed  by  his  polite  manners, 
and  upright  countenance. 

The  late  Col.  Jno.  F.  House,  of  Clarksville,  once 
said  of  him,  that  he  had  the  dignified  bearing  of 
African  royalty. 

15 


He  was  married  during  the  early  30 's,  and  was 
often  heard  to  say,  that  God  never  sent  him  a 
greater  blessing  than  Kitty  Winston. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  offspring  of  a 
free  born  parent,  either  mother,  or  father,  was 
also  free,  and  after  several  sons,  and  daughters 
were  given  to  Aunt  Kitty,  and  Uncle  Horace, 
they  desired  to  be  in  a  home  of  their  own;  Mrs. 
Carr  having  become  a  widow,  she  was  adminis- 
tratrix of  a  very  nice  little  estate,  and  Uncle 
Horace  was  one  of  her  most  valuable  slaves,  and 
when  it  was  talked  around  that  he  wished  to  hire 
himself  from  his  mistress,  ver)^  few  believed  that 
she  would  consent  for  him  to  leave  the  prem- 
ises. 

He  first  talked  to  influential  citizens  of  his 
neighborhood,  as  to  the  possibility  of  securing 
a  suitable  location  for  his  humble  home,  and 
Dr.  P.  F.  Norfleet,  of  Port  Royal,  promised  to 
use  his  influence  in  that  direction. 

So  he  sent  to  Mr.  William  W^eatherford,  owner 
of  a  fine  farm  on  Red  River,  in  sight  of  Port  Royal, 
and  laid  the  case  before  him. 

In  the  meantime.  Uncle  Horace  summoned  up 
courage  enough  to  propose  hiring  himself  from 
Miss  Nancy,  as  he  called  Mrs.  Carr,  for  the  sum 
of  $200.00,  to  which  she  consented. 

Mr.  Weatherford  kindly  granted  the  homestead 

16 


Cabin  (Aunt  Judy's  House)  on  the  old  Fort  Plantation, 

in  which  Rev.  Horace  Carr  preached 

his  first  sertnon. 


site,  nc^nr  a  secluded  place  on  his  plantation,  known 
as  "Horse  Shoe  Bend." 

A  small  log  house  was  soon  erected,  and  the 
Carr  family,  with  their  scant  belongings  went  to 
dw^ell  therein. 

And  now  the  problem  of  making  a  living  con- 
fronted them. 

How  was  it  to  be  done? 

"We  will  work,  and  save,  and  trust  in  the 
Lord,"  Uncle  Horace  would  say- 

And  they  did. 

He  made  boards,  bottomed  chairs,  did  crude 
carpentering,  and  kept  the  ferry  on  Red  River, 
at  Port  Royal,  during  the  high  water  season, 
while  his  industrious  little  wife  spun,  wove,  sold 
ginger  sakes  to  the  village  groceries;  no\^^  and 
then,  accompanying  the  stork  on  its  grand  mission 
of  leaving  rosebud  baby  girls,  and  boys  in  the 
homes  of  families,  where  she  remained  a  week  or 
two,  with  their  mothers,  in  the  capacity  of  a 
tender  and  experienced  nurse. 

There  are  many  mature  men  and  women  in 
our  midst  today,  who  first  opened  their  baby  eyes 
under  Aunt  Kitty's  watch-care. 

She  and  Uncle  Horace  were  economical,  and 
usually  saved  fifty,  or  seventy-five  dollars,  above 
his  promised  wages  to  Mrs.  Carr. 

On  Christmas  eve  morning,  of  each  year,  after 
17 


moving  to  their  home  near  Horse  Shoe  Bend,  he 
would  wend  his  way  quietly  back  to  the  old  Carr 
homestead,  with  his  well  earned  $200.00  for  Miss 
Nancy,  who  always  felt  safe  in  making  her  Christ- 
mas purchases  a  week  or  two  ahead  of  the  holiday 
season,  knowing  he  would  be  true  to  his  promise. 
And  she  always  had  a  present  for  his  family,  often 
a  pig,  with  some  corn  to  feed  it. 

People  of  that  date,  were  practical,  in  their 
present  making,  at  Christmas  time.  Uncle  Horace 
professed  religion  when  quite  young,  during  a 
revivial  at  Red  River  Church,  under  the  ministry 
of  Elder  Reuben  Ross,  a  distinguished  pioneer 
Bapitst  who  came  from  North  Carolina,  to  Ten- 
nessee, over  a  century  ago. 

After  his  profession,  he  felt  a  great  desire  to 
preach,  and  as  the  years  passed,  the  desire  grew 
stronger,  till  he  felt  convinced  that  he  was  Divinely 
called.  So  about  ten  years  before  the  Civil  War, 
he  was  ordained  to  preach. 

His  ordination  took  place  in  Red  River  Church, 
the  primitive  building  on  the  hillside,  a  mile  or 
two  north  west  of  Adams,  Revs.  F.  C.  Plaster, 
and  W.  G.  Adams,  officiating. 

There  was  a  large  congregation  present,  and 
the  ceremony  was  said  to  have  been  a  very  impres- 
sive one. 

Mr.   Lawson  Fort  was  present  and  took  great 

18 


interest  in  the  proceedings,  and  followed  Uncle 
Horace  out  on  the  church  grounds  and  said  to 
him: 

"Horace,  I  am  a  Baptist  preacher's  son,  but 
I  do  not  belong  to  any  church,  though  I  have 
great  respect  for  religious  people. 

"I  want  to  say  to  you,  whenever  you  feel  like 
preaching,  or  holding  a  prayer  meeting,  come  to 
my  house,  and  feel  welcome,  and  I  will  see  to  it 
that  you  are  not  disturbed  by  patrolers. 

"You  will  understand,  Horace,  that  my  negroes 
are  first-class,  and  I  don't  care  to  have  a  mixed 
crowd  on  my  premises  at  night.  I  guess  your 
little  family,  and  my  thirty  or  forty,  will  give  you 
a  pretty  fair  congregation.  It  will  be  best  to 
hold  your  meetings  in  Judy's  house,  as  she  has 
no  small  children. 

"She  has  her  Indigo  dye-pots  setting  around 
in  every  corner,  but  I  guess  she  can  move  them 
out. 

"Judy  prays,  Margaret  shouts,  and  John  exhorts, 
so  it  seems,  that  among  them  all,  you  might  get 
up  some  pretty  good  meetings." 

"May  the  Lord  abundantly  bless  you.  Mars 
Lawson,  for  such  kindness  to  a  race  striving  under 
difficulties,  to  serve  God,"  Uncle  Horace  replied. 

Prior  to  this,  he  had  only  held  religious  services 
in  his  own  home,  but  the  invitation  from  Mr. 
19- 


Fort  gave  him  fresh  courage,  and  he  retired  that 
night  with  thankfulness  in  his  heart,  and  a  firm 
resolve  to  live  up  to  the  Divine  light  that  had 
been  given  him. 

Of  the  two  ministers  who  assisted  in  Uncle 
Horace's  ordination,  I  will  speak  briefly. 

Rev.  W.  S.  Adams  was  the  eldest  son  of  Reuben 
Adams;  the  latter  came  to  Tennessee  from  North 
Carolina  in  1812,  and  settled  on  the  bank  of  Red 
River  in  Robertson  county,  near  where  the  first 
old  Red  River  Church  building  stood. 

He  was  a  penniless  orphan  boy,  but  by  industry, 
and  economy,  was  soon  able  to  buy  a  small  farm. 
Land  at  that  date,  was  very  cheap. 

He  was  married  early  in  life,  to  Miss  Priscilla 
Robinson,  who  made  him  a  pleasant  companion. 

In  the  early  50 's,  the  Edgefield  and  Kentucky 
Railroad  Co.  had  civil  engineers  to  blaze  the  path 
for  the  first  railroad  that  ran  through  this  section. 

A  depot  was  built,  and  the  little  station  called 
Adams,  in  honor  of  Mr.  Reuben  Adams.  On 
account  of  this  railroad  passing  through  his 
premises,  the  value  of  his  land  was  greatly  in- 
creased, and  from  that  time  on,  he  was  able  to 
assist  his  children  financially. 

Growing   up   while  his  father  was  poor,   Rev. 
William  Adams  had  but  few  educational  advant- 
ages.    He  professed  religion   in  his   youth,   and 
20 


was  often  heard  to  remark,  that  most  he  knew 
of  the  Bible,  was  learned  in  Sunday  school. 

He  was  twice  married,  the  first  time  to  Miss 
Batts,  of  Robertson  comity,  and  second,  to  Miss 
Kosure,  of  Madisonville,  Ky.  Eight  or  nine 
children  by  his  first  marriage  are  all  dead,  while 
two  by  his  second,  also  an  aged  wife,  survive  him^ 
and  live  in  Texas. 

Rev.  Adams  spent  thirty  odd  years  in  the 
ministry.  In  the  early  80's  he  moved  from 
Robertson  county  to  Nashville. 

One  morning  he  rose  early,  and  remarked  to 
his  wife,  that  he  felt  unusually  well,  and  wished 
to  put  in  a  good  day's  work  among  the  afflicted 
of  the  neighborhood,  and  spoke  of  first  visiting 
Mrs.  Jones  across  the  street  from  his  home  (nee 
Miss  Lizzie  Frey) ,  who  had  been  one  of  his  favorite 
members  of  Little  Hope  Church,  in  Montgomery 
county. 

Soon  after  breakfast,  he  stood  before  a  mirror 
in  the  family  room  shaving,  when  his  wife  sitting 
near,  noticed  him  turn  suddenly  pale,  and  stagger. 
She  assisted  him  to  a  chair,  and  he  died  almost 
instantly,  from  heart  failure. 

Rev.  F.  C.  Plaster,  was  born  in  Logan  county, 
Ky.,  1805.  He  was  of  humble  parentage,  and 
like  Rev.  Adams,  had  no  educational  advantages. 

At  sixteen  years  of  age,  he  joined  Red  River 

21 


Church,  and  at  twenty,  he  felt  the  Divine  call 
to  preach,  and  so  zealous  was  he,  that  it  was  said 
of  him,  that  while  plaining  lumber  at  the  car- 
penter's bench,  he  kept  his  open  Bible  before 
him,  studying  the  Scriptures  while  he  worked. 

He  was  a  man  of  commanding  appearance,  and 
a  fine  pulpit  orator.  He  was  tw4ce  married,  and 
was  the  father  of  several  sons,  and  daughters,  by 
his  first  marriage.  Both  of  his  wives  were  Ken- 
tuckians,  and  most  estimable  women.  In  1879, 
he  moved  with  his  family  to  Fort  Deposit,  Ala., 
and  from  there,  a  few  years  later,  he  passed  from 
earth. 


22 


CHAPTER  III. 


IN  TRAVELING  FROM  THIS  WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT, 
THE    ROAD    IS    NO    WIFER    FOR    THE     PRINCE,    THAN 

THE  PEASANT." — San.no  Panza. 


In  that  period  of  our  country's  history  known 
as  "slave  time,"  the  white  people  encouraged  the 
colored  race  to  serve  God,  and  received  its  con- 
verts into  their  own  churches,  and  worshipped 
with  them. 

In  most  of  the  meeting  houses,  there  were 
galleries,  or  separate  apartments,  in  which  the 
colored  members  sat,  and  listened  to  the  Gospel 
preached  by  white  ministers. 

Their  membership  was  received  into  the  Baptist 
Associations,  on  equal  terms,  and  the  colored 
ministers  often  preached  during  the  several  days 
sessions  of  these  assemblies.  Elder  Horace  Carr 
did,  when  the  Association  was  held  at  Red  River 
Church. 

Speaking  of  the  separate  apartments  in  the 
churches,  the  writer  has  a  vivid  recollection  of  the 
23 


orderly  colored  congregation  that  occupied  the 
upper  gallery  of  old  Harmony  Church,  three  miles 
south  of  Port  Royal,  in  Robertson  county. 

Near  the  front,  could  be  seen  such  devout 
Christians  as  old  Uncle  Allen  Northington,  Aunt 
Sydney  Norfleet,  Aunt  Sylvia  Carney,  Aunt  Lucy 
Parks,  Aunt  Becky  Northington,  Aunt  Cely  North- 
ington, etc.  It  was  a  rare  occurrence  that  a 
colored  child  was  seen  at  church,  but  you  would 
notice  numerous  white  children  sitting  in  the 
laps  of  their  good  old  "Black  Mamm3^s"  as  they 
called  them.  But  while  this  Christian  brother- 
hood was  being  enjoyed,  another  day  was  dawn- 
ing, in  which  a  new  order  of  things  was  to  take 
place.  The  primitive  order,  with  its  picturesque 
types,  was  doomed  to  pass  away.  The  broad 
plantation  of  the  old  Southern  planter  was  to 
undergo  material  changes,  and  every  influence  for 
good  was  becoming  more  and  more  in  unison  with 
the  great  master  chord  of  Christianity. 

Surely  the  hand  of  Divinity  was  in  it  all,  or  it 
would  not  have  been  so. 

The  Civil  War  came  on,  and  the  Institution  of 
Slavery  was  abolished. 

It  was  not  only  Aunt  Kitty  Carr,  Uncle  Gran- 
ville Wimberly,  and  a  few  others,  that  were 
referred  to,  as  "free  born,"  but  all  were  free! 

The   desire  for   schools  and  churches   of  their 

2i 


-liiiSi,  1  ,.; _       ii'.j""''^^8'".".                 >•>  i^Jlb^^  J<  iM^^^B 

'Riverside;"  home  of  the  late  E.  L.  Fort. 


own  was  awakened,  and  the  right  kind  of  white 
people  were  ready,  and  willing,  to  lend  them  a 
helping  hand.  Among  the  first  to  lead  substan- 
tially in  this  direction,  in  Montgomery  county, 
was  Dr.  P.  F.  Norfleet,  of  Port  Royal. 

Brief  sketch  of  this  fine  old  gentleman:  Dr. 
Philip  Ford  Norfleet  was  born  in  the  early  part 
of  the  past  century,  at  his  father's  homestead  on 
the  Nashville  road,  one  and  a  half  miles  south  of 
Port  Royal.  In  later  years  the  place  was  known 
as  the  Dr.  J.  T.  Darden  farm. 

In  his  early  twenties  he  was  sent  to  a  medical 
college,  and  was  later  on  considered  one  of  the 
best  physicians  of  his  day. 

He  was  a  charter  member  of  Harmony  Mis- 
sionary Baptist  Church,  organized  in  1835,  and 
while  it  was  said  of  him,  that  he  sowed  his  share 
of  wild  oats  in  early  life,  after  joining  the  church 
he  doubled  his  diligence  in  good  works. 

He  was  married  during  his  twenties,  to  Miss 
Elvira  Hopson,  and  several  children  blessed  their 
union. 

He  was  a  man  of  wealth,  owning  a  large  cotton 
plantation  near  Friar's  Point,  Mississippi,  to  which 
he  made  annual  trips  on  horseback,  usually  at 
crop  selling  time,  and  returning  with  vast  sums 
of  money. 

Not  caring  to  risk  the  health  of  his  large  and 
25 


happy  family,  in  the  malarial  districts  of  the 
Mississippi  swamps,  he  made  his  home  at  Port 
Royal. 

The  original  Norfleet  residence,  with  few  excep- 
tions, remains  intact,  and  is  at  present  owned  and 
occupied  by  Mr.  W.  E.  Alley,  a  prosperous  farmer, 
and  substantial  citizen  of  Montgomery  county. 

For  the  benefit  of  his  family.  Dr.  Norfleet  kept 
a  number  of  efficient  servants. 

Among  them  two  very  refined  house  maids, 
Kitty  Hopson  and  Adeline  Norfleet;  Frank,  the 
carriage  driver;  Mary,  the  cook,  and  Louis,  a 
roustabout. 

Of  these,  only  one  survive,  Adeline,  who  in 
her  old  age,  finds  no  greater  pleasure  than  in 
talking  of  her  white  people. 

Although  the  Norfleets  were  the  acknowledged 
aristocrats  of  the  country,  they  were  also  benevo- 
lent to  a  marked  degree. 

Apropos  of  their  liberality,  I  deem  it  not  amiss 
to  mention  the  case  of  Ed  and  Fronie  Hawkins, 
a  very  unique,  feeble  minded  couple  of  white 
people,  who  lived  in  a  small  one-room  log  cabin, 
near  Turners ville,  in  Robertson  county,  and  sub- 
sisted mainly  on  charity. 

Mr.  Hawkins,  familiarly  known  as  "Old  Ed," 
was  a  tall,  lank  figure,  with  a  shock  of  long  sandy 
hair,  that  hung  in  strings  around  his  neck,  while 
26 


his  sallow  complexion  and  deep  set  small  blue 
eyes,  completed  the  make-up  of  an  unattractive 
personality. 

Fronie,  his  dumpy  dame,  in  point  of  height, 
measured  very  little  above  her  husband's  slender 
waist.  She  had  small  brown  eyes,  fair  com- 
plexion, and  an  abundant  suit  of  coarse  red  hair, 
which  she  wore  in  a  massive  club,  or  coil,  at  the 
nape  of  her  neck,  held  in  place  by  a  rusty  horn 
tuck  comb. 

About  three  times  a  year,  they  made  begging 
trips  to  Port  Royal,  Dr.  Norfleet's  home  being 
their  objective  point. 

Fronie  would  generally  start  a  few  days  in 
advance  of  her  husband,  in  order  to  get  her  charity 
donations  together. 

He  would  follow  later,  and  help  carry  them 
home. 

Dr.  Norfleet  wore  white  linen  suits  in  summer^ 
and  on  one  occasion,  gave  Fronie  a  second  hand 
suit  for  Ed. 

Dr.  Norfleet  was  tall,  and  his  pants  legs  were 
long,  so  she  conceived  the  idea  of  packing  her 
donations  in  the  legs  of  those  he  had  given  her. 
She  sewed  up  the  legs  at  the  bottom,  put  a  stout 
loop  on  the  back  of  the  binding  at  the  top,  and 
hung  her  improvised  receptacle  on  a  hook  behind 
the  office  door;  everything  that  was  given  to  her, 

27 


she  dropped  it  down  the  pants  legs — sugar, 
coffee,  second-hand  clothes,  chunks  of  meet,  etc., 
all  in  a  jumble. 

When  they  were  well  nigh  full,  she  began  to 
wish  for  Mr.  Hawkins.  He  came  at  last,  and  she 
led  him  to  look  behind  the  door. 

He  was  delighted,  and  scarcely  taking  time  to 
rest  from  his  journey  of  six  miles  on  a  warm  day, 
he  placed  the  well  stuffed  pants  astride  his  neck, 
and  struck  out  up  the  Nashville  road,  without 
even  bidding  Dr.  Norfleet's  family  good  bye. 

Fronie  followed  close  at  his  heels,  holding  by 
the  legs,  in  her  right  hand,  a  fine  fat  pair  of  Mus- 
covy ducks,  Mrs.  Norfleet  had  given  her.  On 
passing  Mr.  William  Brown's  residence,  just  up 
the  road,  Mr.  Brown's  son,  Robert,  happened  to 
be  at  the  front  gate;  young  Robert  Bourne  had 
a  keen  sense  of  humor,  and  their  ludicious  appear- 
ance threw  him  into  such  a  fit  of  laughter  that 
he  rolled  over  and.  over  on  the  ground. 

But  the  Hawkins's  kept  straight  ahead,  bound 
for  Turners vi lie  before  sunset,  but  they  were 
doomed  to  an  unexpected  delay. 

The  ducks  grew  heavy,  and  Fronie  set  them 
down  by  the  roadside  to  rest  her  tired  arm. 

It  happened  that  she  stopped  at  the  head  of 
the  ten-foot  deep  gully,  just  beyond  the  old 
Mallory  homestead,  where  the  old  Harmony 
28 


Church  road  branched  off  to  the  right  from  the 
niain  Nashville  route.  The  ducks  set  to  fluttering, 
and  tumbled  down  the  embankment  and  into  the 
gully,  breaking  the  string  that  held  them  together. 
Ed  flew  into  a  rage,  because  she  let,  them  get 
away,  and  swore  he'd  whip  her  on  the  spot,  if 
she  did  not  catch  them.  She  chased  them  up 
and  dowm  the  gully  till  she  was  almost  exhausted, 
when  a  passing  fishing  party  came  to  her  assist- 
ance. 

The  late  George  Washington's  family  con- 
tributed liberally  to  the  support  of  this  couple, 
and  in  speaking  of  the  Washington  home,  Fronie 
always  referred  to  it  as  "the  fat  house,"  meaning 
rich  people. 

The  young  people  of  Port  Royal  neighborhood, 
spent  many  pleasant  times  in  years  gone  by, 
masquerading  in  comic  costumes,  as  Ed  and 
Fronie  Hawkins. 

They  were  known  far  and  wide,  as  a  very 
amusing  couple,  but  when  old  age  came  to  them, 
and  the  liberal  friends  who  had  kept  "the  wolf 
from  their  cabin  door"  had  passed  away,  it 
became  necessary  for  them  to  be  carried  to  the 
county  poor  house,  and  from  there,  I'm  sure,  their 
innocent  souls  went  straight  to  heaven. 


29 


CHAPTER  IV. 


WHO  OF  US  CAN  SAY,  WHICH  IS  FAIRER,  THE 
VISIONS  OF  HOPE,  OR  MEMORY''  THE  ONE  MAKES 
ALL  THINGS  POSSIBLE,  THE  OTHER  MAKES  ALL 
THINGS  REAL." 


In  the  holy  hush  of  that  September  afternoon, 
Aunt  Kitty  told  me  of  a  vision  that  she  had,  during 
the  middle  60's. 

It  was  my  last  talk  with  her,  and  she  seemed 
SO  impressed  with  the  memory  of  it,  that  she  laid 
aside  her  peach  peeling,  and  gave  her  mind,  and 
soul,  to  the  subject  so  dear  to  her  heart. 

She  said:  "Some  people  call  them  dreams,  but 
I  call  them  visions.  Ever  since  God  spoke  peace 
to  my  soul,  I  had  prayed  for  religious  liberty  for 
my  people;  so  great  was  my  desire  in  this  par- 
ticular direction,  that  it  seemed  as  a  heavy 
weight  that  was  bowing  me  down. 

"But  one  night,  about  midnight,  the  burden 
seemed  to  be  lifted  from  me.  The  deep  darkness 
drifted  away,  and  it  seemed  that  the  sun  shone 
30 


everywhere,  and  in  a  certain  direction,  I  saw  a 
long  grassy  slope  stretch  far  away  before  me. 

"I  could  not  tell  at  first,  what  it  meant,  for  I 
saw  nothing  but  space.  By  and  by,  a  small 
tab.e  appeared,  and  seemed  to  come  nearer  and 
nearer. 

"I  looked  away,  and  wondered,  and  then  I 
looked  again,  and  a  Bib't  was  on  the  table. 

"The  third  time  I  cast  my  eyes,  lo  and  behold! 
there  stood  my  old  man  behind  the  table,  the 
Bible  was  open,  and  he  was  slowly  reading  from 
its  sacred  pages! 

"Miss  Harriet,  this  may  all  sound  very  strange 
to  you,  but  that  vision  was  as  plain  to  me,  as  the 
sight  of  you,  sitting  here  before  me. 

"The  old  man  had  been  working  away  from 
home  all  the  week,  so  I  got  up  next  morning  and 
went  about  my  daily  duties  without  telling  my 
children  what  I  had  seen. 

"Saturday  night  he  came  home,  and  after  hold- 
ing family  prayers,  and  everything  was  quiet 
about  the  house,  I  told  him  of  my  vision — and 
listen,  oh,  it  was  joy  to  my  soul!  He  told  me 
that  Dr.  Norfleet  wanted  us  to  have  a  place  of 
worship,  and  that  he  was  willing  to  give  us  land 
on  which  to  build  a  church,  about  an  acre,  on 
the  hillside,  between  Mr.  Bourne's  spring  and 
Sulphur   Fork   Creek.     And   he  said   that   many 

31 


other  white  friends  would  give  lumber,  and  small 
sums  of  money. 

"Miss  Harriet,  we  re^oiced  together  that  Satur- 
day night,  as  we  never  had  before.  We  had 
been  reaching  our  feeble  arms  toward  Heaven  a 
long  time,  pleading  for  the  blessing  that  was  now 
in  sight." 

Thirty  odd  years  had  passed,  and  a  new  genera- 
tion had  come,  but  the  flight  of  time  only  served 
to  sweeten  the  sound  of  her  story.  As  I  bade 
her  good  bye,  I  was  deeply  conscious  that  I  would 
never  see  her  again,  for  she  was  growing  too 
feeble  to  leave  home,  and  I  drove  off,  feeling 
spiritually  benefitted  from  contact  with  such  a 
Christian  character  as  Aunt  Kitty  Carr. 

One  Autumn  afternoon  in  ISO?,  a  large  crowd 
of  the  best  colored  people  of  Port  Royal  and 
surrounding  neighborhoods,  assembled  on  the  hill- 
side where  Mount  Zion  now  stands,  and  organized 
the  church. 

Elder  Horace  Carr  was  assisted  in  the  organiza- 
tion by  Revs.  Chess  Ware  and  Ben  Thomas,  of 
Guthrie,  Ky.  Elder  Carr  stood  under  a  large 
white, oak  tree,  and  led  in  the  movement,  while 
his  hearers  sat  around  on  rails,  logs,  stumps,  etc. 

It  was  a  movement  destined  to  mean  much  to 
the  colored  people  of  Robertson  "and  Montgomery 

32 


^^J/^^^^fl' 

Mount  Zioii,  Colored  Baptist  Church,  near 
Port  Roval.  Tennessee. 


counties.  Located  as  it  was,  near  the  county 
line,  its  membership  was  composed  largely  of 
both  counties,  but  since  then,  other  churches  have 
sprung  up,  and  many  of  the  Mount  Zion  members 
joined  those  nearer  their  homes. 

Alfred  Pitt  (col.)  took  the  contract  for  building 
the  first  house  of  worship.  It  was  30x30  feet, 
and  erected  in  a  very  short  time. 

Most  of  the  white  citizens  of  the  neighborhood 
contributed  either  lumber  or  small  amounts  of 
money,  and  when  the  crude  little  building  appeared 
on  the  hillside,  all  eyes  turned  to  Uncle  Horace, 
as  the  good  shepherd  to  lead  the  little  flock  of 
seventy  odd  miembers. 

This  first  church  building,  was  also  used  for  a 
school-room,  in  which  was  taught  one  of  the  first 
colored  schools  in  Middle  Tennessee,  during  what 
was  termed  the  "Reconstruction  Period;"  in 
other  words,  the  years  immediately  following  the 
Civil  War,  when  both  races  were  adjusting  them- 
selves to  the  changed  conditions  brought  about 
by  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves. 

This  school  was  taught  by  Miss  Denie  Sims,  a 
nice,  refined  young  woman  from  Clarksville,  Tenn., 
who  conducted  not  only  herself,  but  her  school, 
so  well,  that  she  was  highly  esteemed  by  both 
white  and  colored  people  of  Port  Royal  neigh- 
borhood. 


The  first  building  being  too  small  to  accommo- 
date the  congregations  that  rapidly  increased  in 
numbers,  it  was  torn  away  after  standing  two  or 
three  years,  and  replaced  by  one  of  36x40  feet. 

This  stood  five  years,  and  was  burned  at  night 
by  unknown  parties.  Circumstantial  evidence 
pointed  strongly  to  certain  people,  but  there  was 
no  positive  proof. 

After  the  excitement,  incident  to  such  an 
occurrence,  had  subsided,  Uncle  Horace  gathered 
together  a  portion  of  his  little  flock,  and  cautioned 
them  to  say  no  harsh  words,  that  all  would  be 
well,  for  he  felt  that  the  good  people  who  had 
assisted  them  before,  would  do  so  again,  and  they 
would  rebuild.  They  rebuilt  on  the  same  founda- 
tion, and  all  went  right  for  a  few  years,  or,  until 
a  band  of  colored  gamblers  became  a  menace  to 
law,  and  order.  So  bold  did  they  grow  in  their 
wickedness,  that  one  night  they  actually  gambled 
in  front  of  the  church  door,  from  the  same  light 
that  guided  the  good  minister  in  reading  the 
Gospel  from  the  sacred  desk! 

It  was  more  than  the  Christian  congregation 
could  stand,  and  strenuous  measures  were  taken 
against  the  offenders. 

That  same  week  Mount  Zion  again  went  up  in 
flames,  but  faith,  and  persistency',  are  Life's 
architects,  and  the  fourth  building  was  erected, 

34 


and  there  it  stands  today,  a  monument  to  the 
courage  of  a  faithful  few. 

For  the  benefit  of  those  who  would  hke  to  know 
the  charter  members  of  Mount  Zion  Church,  I 
give  below  a  list  of  their  names;  true  it  is,  a  few 
may  have  been  overlooked,  but  in  the  main,  they 
are  as  follows: 


Sydney  Allen. 
Rev.  Horace  Carr. 
Kitty  Carr. 
Horace  Carr,  Jr. 
Rev.  Althens  Carr. 
Lucinda  Carney. 
Sylvia  Came}'. 
Easter  Carney. 
Isaac  Carney. 
Aleck  Carney. 
Ann  Dunn. 
Judy  Fort. 
Margaret  Fort. 
Charlotte  Fort. 
Katie  Fort. 
George  Francis  Fort. 
Jim  Fort. 
Peggy  Fort. 
Rev.  John  Fort. 
Daniel  Fort. 
Sampson  Fort. 


Henry  Fort. 
Frank  Fort. 
Sarah  Grant. 
John  Grant. 
Bear  John  Grant. 
Nelson  Grant. 
Vinie  Grant. 
Wallace  Gaines. 
Maria  Gaines. 
Phil  Gaines. 
Dennis  Gaines. 
Martha  Gaines. 
Clarissa  Gaines. 
Malachi  Gaines. 
Eliza  Gaines. 
Eliza  Holmes. 
Waddy  Herring. 
Sallie  Ann  Herring. 
Rachel  Izor. 
Sam  Izor. 
Mark  Mitchell. 

35 


Patsy  McGowan. 
John  McGowan. 
Martha  Newton. 
Sookey  Northington. 
Vinie  Northington. 
CaroUne  Northington. 
William  Northington. 
Jack  Northington. 
Angelina  Northington. 
Seely  Northington. 
Chaney  Northington. 
Elijah  Northington. 
Louisanna  Northington. 
Bettie  Northington. 
With  few  exceptions, 


Dennis  Northington. 
Rebekah  Northington. 
Allen  Northington. 
Neptune  Northington. 
George  Northington. 
Sam  Northington. 
Almira  Northington. 
Betsy  Neblett. 
Kitty  Norfleet. 
Adeline  Norfleet. 
Rildy  Polk. 
Lucy  Parks. 
Demps  Wimberly. 
Delphi  W^aters. 
nearly  all  of  the  above 


charter  members  had  been  m^embers  of  Red  River 
and  Harmony  churches  before  the  Civil  War. 
Scarcely  a  dozen  of  them  remain  with  us  in  the 
flesh. 

During  its  forty-four    years'    existence,  Mount 
Zion  has  had  the  following  pastors: 

Rev.  Horace  Carr. 

Rev.  Altheus  Carr. 

Rev.  Edmond  Northington 

Rev.  Paul  Dennis. 

Rev.  George  Mimms. 

Rev.  Turner  Parish. 

Rev.  M.  Fox. 


36 


Rev.  L.  Jones. 
Rev.  A.  J.  Moore,  D.  D. 
Of  the  original  Deacons,  only  one  is  alive,  Aleck 
Carney,  the  other  six  in  active  service  are: 
Dan  Fort. 
George  Fort. 
Demps  Fort. 
Albert  Steward. 
Wright  Watkins. 
Will  Randolph. 
It   is  a  noticeable  fact,   that  the   second  and 
third  generations  of  some  of  Mount  Zion's  charter 
members,  are  at  present  among  its  best  workers; 
as  for  example.  Rev.  John  Fort's  son  Dan,  and 
grandson  George,  upon  whose  shoulders  a  father's 
religious  mantle  has  fallen. 

Soon  after  the  donation  of  land  by  Dr.  Norfleet 
for  Mount  Zion  Church,  Mr.  William  Bourne,  on 
an  adjoining  farm,  gave  land  for  a  colored  ceme- 
tery. 

Mr.  Bourne  was  a  citizen  of  fine  standing.  He 
was  the  son  of  Ambrose  Bourne,  a  prominent 
pioneer  Baptist  minister. 

By  strange  coincidence.  Rev.  Ambrose  Bourne 
helped  organize  Red  River  Church,  1791,  within 
a  few  hundred  yards  of  where  Mount  Zion  now 
stands. 

Red  River  is  one  of  the  oldest  Baptist  churches 

87 


in  Tennessee,  and  the  Bourne  Spring  at  that  date, 
was  called  Prince's  Spring,  and  the  little  log 
church  building  was  known  as  Prince's  meeting 
house.  After  its  removal  to  Robertson  county 
it  took  its  name  from  its  nearness  to  Red  River. 
In  the  early  days  most  of  the  churches  took  their 
names  from  the  streams  nearest  which  they  were 
located,  as  Spring  Creek,  West  Fork,  Red  River, 
etc.  Rev.  Horace  Carr  named  the  church  he 
loved  so  well,  from  the  New  Testament.  Hebrews 
12:  22,  in  which  Moses  said,  "But  ye  are  come 
unto  Mount  Zion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living 
God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem."  etc. 


38 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  MAN  WHO  SPEAKS,  MAY,  IF  HIS  MESSAGE 
IS  GREAT  ENOUGH,  AND  GREATLY  DELIVERED,  RANK 
ABOVE  THE  RULERS  OF  HIS  TIME." 


It  seems  that  a  love  for  the  ministry,  was 
inherent  in  the  Carr  family,  and  it  is  also  a  notice- 
able fact,  that  few,  if  any  of  them,  have  departed 
from  the  Baptist  faith;  beginning  with  Uncle 
Horace,  and  descending  to  his  two  sons,  Altheus 
and  William,  on  down  to  his  grandson.  Rev. 
Thomas  Carr,  of  Kansas,  son  of  the  late  Calvin 
Carr,  of  Cheatham  county. 

Altheus,  the  fourth  son  of  Uncle  Horace,  and 
Aunt  Kitty,  was  born  near  Port  Royal,  Tenn.,  in 
the  early  SO's.  He  was  obedient  to  his  parents 
from  his  early  childhood. 

While  a  day  laborer  on  the  farms  around  Port 
Royal,  he  manifested  a  thirst  for  knowledge,  and 
while  his  plow  team  rested  their  noon  hours  rest, 
he  was  not  idle.     He  could  be  seen  lying  around 

39 


under  the  shade  trees,  either  with  a  book  in  his 
hand  or  a  pencil  and  paper. 

By  saving  his  wages,  and  receiving  financial 
aid  from  friends,  he  was  enabled  to  take  a  theo- 
logical course  at  Fisk's  University,  Nashville, 
Tenn. 

He  was  a  negro  of  commanding  appearance, 
and  polite  address,  and  after  the  death  of  his 
father,  September,  1877,  he  was  pastor  of  Mount 
Zion  Church  continuously  for  nine  years.  In  his 
early  twenties  he  was  married  to  Miss  Lou  Gaines, 
daughter  of  Aunt  Eliza  Gaines,  of  whom  I  shall 
speak  later. 

After  his  marriage,  he  purchased  five  acres  of 
land  adjoining  the  Mount  Zion  lot,  on  which  he 
built  a  comfortable  three  room  cottage.  It  was 
here  that  he  and  his  thrifty  wife  raised  a  large 
and  interesting  family  of  seven  daughters,  all  of 
whom  died  young. 

In  his  cottage  he  had  his  private  study,  in  which 
he  prepared  some  very  able  sermons,  and  after 
he  thought  he  had  his  subjects  well  in  hand,  he 
often  went  to  a  valley  near  his  home,  on  Sulphur 
Fork  Creek,  and  delivered  them,  with  the  fine  old 
elms  and  sycamores  his  silent  listeners. 

His  funeral  orations  were  hard  to  beat,  several 
of  which  I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing.  The  first 
being  that  of  William  Northington,  the  trusted 
40 


foreman  for  years  on  Miss  Ellen  Yates'  farm. 
William  was  highly  esteemed  as  a  colored  citizen 
of  the  community,  and  Miss  Ellen  sent  out  for 
her  white  friends  to  attend  his  funeral.  They 
occupied  seats  on  the  back  porch,  while  the 
colored  congregation  sat  under  the  shade  of  the 
tall  locust  trees,  and  listened  with  rapt  attention. 
After  taking  his  text,  and  making  a  few  appro- 
priate introductory  remarks,  he  quoted  effectively 
from  Longfellow's  Psalm  of  Life: 

"Art  is  long,  and  time  is  fleeting, 

And  our  hearts,  though  stout  and  brave, 
Still,  like  muffled  drums  are  beating 
Funeral  marches  to  the  grave." 

William  and  Jack  Northington  were  brothers, 
owned  by  Mr.  Henry  Northington,  one  of  the 
pioneer  settlers  of  Middle  Tennessee. 

Mr.  Northington  was  a  large  slave  owner,  and 
not  needing  William  and  Jack  on  his  farm,  he 
kept  them  hired  out. 

After  they  were  freed,  they  said,  "We  will  go 
back  to  the  old  home,  and  help  take  care  of  Mars 
Henry  the  remainder  of  his  days,"  and  they  did. 
Mr.  Northington  died  June,  1877,  but  they  still 
stayed  on  the  old  plantation,  working  as  long  as 
they  lived  for  Miss  EUe'n  Yates,  Mr.  Northington's 
adopted  niece. 

41 


Two  summers  later,  August,  1883,  I  heard  him 
preach  the  funeral  of  Aunt  Lucy  Parks  North- 
ington.  For  several  years  before  her  death,  Aunt 
Lucy  had  cooked  for  Mrs.  Lawson  Fort.  She  had 
been  a  faithrul  servant  in  the  Dancy,  Parks,  and 
Fort  families  all  her  life,  originally  belonging  to 
William  E.  Dancy,  of  Florence,  Ala. 

She  was  beloved  by  her  white  people,  who  ten- 
derly cared  for  her  during  the  last  two  years  of 
her  life,  in  which  she  was  unable  to  work.  And 
when  the  last  sad  rites  were  to  be  paid  her  remains, 
her  casket  was  placed  on  the  front  gallery  of  the 
pretty  Fort  home;  white  friends  sat  in  the  parlor 
and  sitting  room;  the  colored  congregation  occu- 
pied seats  leading  from  the  steps  to  the  front 
gate.  As  Rev.  Altheus  Carr  stood  at  the  head 
of  the  casket,  and  'neath  the  shadows  of  the 
imposing  columns  of  that  old  colonial  home,  it 
was  a  scene  to  touch  the  tendercst  chord  of  a 
Southern  heart.  On  the  casket  was  a  wreath  of 
vSpider  lillies,  that  grew  in  a  valley  near  the  cabin 
home  of  the  deceased,  when  she  lived  at  the  old 
Parks  homestead  near  Port  Royal.  Every  sum- 
mer, for  years,  she  had  admired  that  lily  bed  at 
blooming  time,  and  the  writer  remembered  it. 

He  took  for  his  text,  "Well  done  good  and 
faithful  servant,"  etc.,  and  started  out  by  saying: 
"The  nearness  of  this  casket  to  the  mansion  door, 

42 


and  the  pure  white  liUies  that  shed  their  fragrance 
over  the  heart  that  is  forever  still,  attest  the  truth 
of  my  text.  Yes  my  hearers,  this  means  some- 
thing. It  speaks  appreciation  of  a  life,  whose 
ending  deserves  more  than  a  passing  notice. 

"Sister  Lucy  Parks  Northington  was  sixty-one 
years  of  age,  and  forty-one  years  of  this  long 
span  of  life  were  spent  in  the  Master's  vineyard. 

"She  was  a  quiet  worker,  caring  not  for  the 
praise  of  the  world,  but  striving  always  to  perform 
duties  pleasing  to  the  eye  of  Him  who  seeth  in 
secret  places. 

"Too  well  I  know,  that  my  feeble  words  can  do 
but  scant  justice  to  the  life  of  such  a  departed 
sister,  but  I  feel  like  we  should  hold  high  the  light 
of  such  lives,  that  others  may  follow  their  bright- 
ness. 

"My  mother  was  often  with  Sister  Lucy  during 
her  last  days;  they  sang  and  prayed  together, 
and  she  left  every  evidence  that  she  was  ready  for 
the  kingdom. 

"Her  last  night  on  earth,  she  said  to  the  friends 
keeping  watch,  'Sing  to  me,  sing  the  good  old 
songs  of  Zion.'  No  doubt,  but  she,  like  the  saints 
of  old,  wanted  music  to  charm  her  last  on  earth, 
and  greet  her  first  in  heaven. 

"We  shall  miss  her  at  the  church  she  loved  so 
well,  but  she  has  left  her  light  on  its  altars,  and 

i3 


if  we  would  see  her  again,  let  us  find  her  footprints, 
and  follow  them.  They  have  not  been  blotted 
out.  We  will  find  them  leading  from  her  doorway 
to  those  of  affliction,  to  the  church  door,  or  wher- 
ever her  gentle  spirit  was  needed. 

"This  quiet  Summer's  evening  we  will  lay  her 
tired  body  to  rest  on  the  hillside  overlooking  Red 
River;  time  for  her  is  no  more,  but  a  home  not 
made  with  hands,  is  hers  to  enjoy,  though  an 
endless  Eternity." 

The  service  was  concluded  with  a  song  and 
prayer,  after  which  the  orderly  funeral  procession 
passed  up  the  lane,  and  on  down  to  the  colored 
graveyard,  where  so  many  of  the  Fort  colored 
people  have  been  laid  to  rest. 

There  was  a  certain  dignity  and  refinement 
about  Rev.  Altheus  Carr  that  was  noticeable,  and 
which  he  manifested  on  occasions  when  white 
people  attended  his  services. 

As  for  instance,  at  the  large  baptizings  which 
followed  his  successful  revivals,  when  the  good 
singing  was  especially  inspiring,  several  emotional 
members  of  his  church  were  in  the  habit  of  shout- 
ing, and  at  times,  they  were  noisy  in  their  demon- 
strations. When  he  realized  that  they  had  reached 
a  limit,  he  usually  in  an  undertone,  spoke  some 
kind  word  of  admonition. 

Often  they  understood  a  gesture  from  him,  and 
44 


all  would  be  quiet.  He  wielded  a  subtle  influence 
over  his  people  that  was  rennarkable. 

It  is  a  fact  worthy  of  mention,  that  only  one 
member  was  publicly  known  to  rebel  at  the  new 
rules  set  up  in  Mount  Zion  church  after  his  became 
its  pastor. 

His  father,  during  his  nine  years  charge  of  the 
church,  had  accepted  for  his  services  only  what 
the  members  saw  fit  to  pay  him.  His  idea  being 
that  God  did  not  intend  for  a  price  to  be  set  on 
the  preaching  of  the  Gospel. 

Neither  did  he  advocate,  or  allow,  church  sup- 
pers as  a  means  of  raising  funds  for  religious 
purposes. 

But  the  world  moves,  and  church  conditions 
forced  his  successors  to  adopt  new  methods. 

Altheus  being  the  first  to  follow  his  father,  was 
forced  to  have  systematic  means  of  raising  church 
money,  by  assessing  the  members  according  to 
their  supposed  financial  ability.  Uncle  Arter 
Northington,  a  reasonably  prosperous  colored 
tenant  living  on  Mr.  Felix  Northington 's  premises, 
was  assessed  $2.00. 

He  thought  it  was  too  much,  and  appealed  to 
his  employer,  in  whose  sense  of  right  and  justice 
he  had  great  confidence.  The  latter  told  him  he 
thought  fifty  cents  would  be  enough. 

When  the  contribution  box  was  handed  round 

45 


on  the  next  collection  day,  Uncle  Arter  dropped 
in  his  fifty  cents.  After  preaching  was  over, 
Rev.  Carr  approached  him  privately,  and  quoted 
appropriately  from  Paul  regarding  certain  reli- 
gious obligations. 

Uncle  Arter  was  very  black,  very  positive,  and 
talked  through  his  nose.  Straightening  himself 
up,  he  spoke  defiantly,  and  said:  "Brer  Carr,  I 
keers  nothin'  '  tall  'bout  what  Paul  said.  Mars 
Felix  is  smart  enough  for  me  ter  go  by,  an  he  says 
fifty  cents  is  plenty  fer  me  ter  pay,  an  that's  all 
I'm  gwine  ter  pay." 

The  incident  was  related  at  the  village  store, 
and  in  a  spirit  of  amusement  some  one  exclaimed, 
"Hurrah  for  Paul!"  and  from  that  time  on,  till 
his  death,  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  afterwards. 
Uncle  Arter  was  known  far  and  wide  as  "Paul." 


46 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"he  had  an  ear  that  caught,  and  a  memory 
that  kept." 


Uncle  Horace  was  spending  several  days  in 
our  neighborhood,  filling  a  whitewashing  contract. 
Red  River  was  past  fording;  he  worked  till  late, 
and  did  not  wish  to  risk  the  ferry  after  dark,  so 
he  "took  time  about,"  as  he  called  it,  staying 
among  the  neighbors  at  night. 

The  night  he  spent  on  my  father's  premises,  1 
went  after  supper  to  Aunt  Lucy's  house  in  the 
back  yard,  and  asked  him  to  tell  me  of  a  corn 
shucking  before  the  war.  He  drew  his  chair  up 
near  the  door,  and  began  as  follows: 

"I  think  about  the  biggest  corn  shucking  I  ever 
went  to  was  on  Mr.  Waters'  farm,  between  Mr. 
Billie  Weatherford's  and  Mr.  John  Powers'.  Mr. 
Waters  was  a  prosperous  farmer,  and  a  mighty 
fine  man  with  it. 

"It  was  about  the  last  of  November,  and  the 
com  was  piled  high  in  a  lot  back  of  the  house. 
47 


I  would  suppose  there  were  about  fifty  hands 
invited,  white  and  colored.  They  went  to  work, 
and  they  worked,  too,  I  tell  you. 

"Old  gray  headed  men  were  invited,  not  to 
work,  mind  you,  but  to  sit  off  to  themselves  and 
talk  over  good  old  times. 

"The  night  was  cool,  and  frosty,  and  a  log  fire 
was  built  for  their  benefit.  What  we  called  the 
best  men  of  the  county  were  there.  Mr.  Hatcher, 
Mr.  Hiter,  Mr.  Wilcox,  Mr.  Thomas  Shaw,  Mr. 
John  Powers,  and  Mr.  Patrick  McGowan.  I 
remember  Mr.  McGowan  and  Mr.  Shaw  seemed 
to  be  particular  friends.  They  came  together  and 
went  away  together. 

Mr.  McGowan  owned  a  yellow  man  named" 
John,  and  he  could  beat  anybody  there  shucking 
corn;  he  could  also  find  more  red  ears  than  any- 
body else,  and  would  laugh  the  merriest  laughs 
when  he  found  them,  for  a  red  ear  meant  an  extra 
dram,  you  know.  Some  of  the  hands  accused 
him  of  bringing  along  a  few  from  Mr.  McGowan 's 
corn  crib,  but  1  hardly  think  that  was  true,  for 
when  it  came  to  honesty,  John  was  as  straight 
as  a  shingle. 

"Charles,  Mr.  Waters'  wagoner,  was  the  heap 
walker  that  night.  Always  at  corn  shuckings 
they  picked  out  somebody  with  a  clear,  good 
voice  to  sing,  and  made  them  the  heap  walker. 

48 


He  walked  over  and  around  the  com  heap,  and 
sang  the  com  song.  Somehow,  the  hands  seemed 
to  forget  they  worked,  when  they  sang,  the  time 
passed  so  pleasantly. 

"Charles  was  what  they  called  a  quick  witted 
smart  fellow,  and  he  could  fit  into  his  songs  some 
of  the  funny  sayings  of  the  neighborhood,  and 
make  the  people  laugh  amazingly.  He  would 
sing  the  verses  alone,  and  the  crowd  would  join 
in  the  chorus.     The  com  song  went  like  this: 

"Ginn  erway  de  corn  boys,  ginn  erway  de  com. 
Done  come  here  ternight,  fer  ter  ginn  erway  de 

com.  ' 

Com,  cor-n,  cor-n,  cor-n,  com  fer  de 
Bell  cow,  com  fer  de  mule. 
Ash  cake  fer  de  yaller  gal, 
Dat  make  you  all  er  fool. 
Corn,  corn,  com,  dear  old  Marser's  corn.' 

"Then  the  chorus  went: 

'Cor-n,  cor-n,  ginn  erway  de  corn, 
Gwine  ter  shuck  it  all  dis  night, 
As  sho's  yer  bor-n,  bor-n.' 
"And  bless  your  life,  they  were  happy  times, 
those  good   old   corn   shucking   days  before  the 
war!     Along  about   midnight,   they  changed  up 
from  the  corn  song  to  the  dram  song,  and  when 
that   started    up,    the   boys   worked   like   steam 
48 


Engines.     As  well  as  I  can  remember,  here's  the 
way  the  dram  song  went : 

'Dram,  dram,  little  drop  er  dram  sir, 
Dram,  dram,  fetch  erlong  de  dram. 
Come,  come,  little  Mister  Whiskey, 
Nigger  mighty  thirsty,  wants  er  little  dram.' 


"When  the  corn  pile  was  finished  up,  Mr.  Waters 
took  off  his  hat,  made  a  polite  bow,  and  thanked 
the  hands  for  their  good  work. 

"Then  he  said:  'I'll  give  you  something  to  warm 
up  your  throats,'  and  hands  the  big  jug  around; 
but  he  had  good  judgment,  and  would  not  give 
them  enough  to  make  them  drunk.  When  the 
last  one  had  taken  his  dram,  John  McGowan,  that 
same  active  yellow  man,  and  one  of  the  Sale 
colored  boys,  caught  Mr.  Waters  up  on  their 
shoulders,  and  away  they  went  to  the  house  with 
him,  the  hands  following  behind,  singing  thecorn 
song.  They  set  him  down  on  the  front  door 
steps. 

Mrs.  Waters  was  out  in  the  hall,  and  said  she 
had  not  laughed  as  much  sidce  Christmas.  We 
were  invited  out  to  the  big  log  kitchen,  and  there 
on  a  long  table  was  spread  the  feast  of  all  feasts. 
Boiled  ham,  barbecued  shoat,  sweet  potatoes, 
coffee,  pumpkin  pies,  ginger  cakes,  and  cider;  and 

50 


when  the  supper  was  over,  the  young  folks  Ht  in 
to  dancing.  I  didn't  care  for  dancing  myself, 
so  I  sat  around  and  talked  to  the  sober-minded 
folks. 

"It  was  an  old  saying,  that  day  must  never 
break  on  a  corn  shucking  feast,  or  bad  luck  would 
fall  on  the  next  one.  So  before  we  broke  up,  the 
boys  took  Mr.  Waters  on  their  shoulders  three 
times  around  the  house,  to  the  music  of  a  good 
bye  song.  Just  now  I  can't  exactly  remember 
how  that  went,  but  it  was  a  pretty  tune. 

"When  we  scattered  out,  each  one  going  to 
his  home,  some  up  the  road,  down  the  road,  and 
across  the  fields,  the  frosty  night  air  rang  with 
'Run,  nigger  run,  patroler'l  ketch  you,'  etc. 

"Of  course  I  went  to  many  other  corn  shucking 
frolics,  but  this  one  was  the  biggest  I  ever  attended, 
not  only  this,  but  they  had  the  best  order  I  ever 
noticed. 

"Well  I've  told  you  about  a  corn  shucking 
before  the  war,  and  the  next  time  I  come  back 
I'll  tell  you  of  when  the  stars  fell." 

"Tell  me  now,"  I  said,  "something  may  happen 
that  you  will  not  come  again  soon;  its  not  late, 
and  you  will  have  time  to  tell  part  of  it  any 
way." 

He  looked  serious  and  said,  "Well  I  was  not 
to  say  sheered,  but  it  was  certainly  a  solemn 
51 


time!  I  was  twenty-one  years  old  when  it  hap- 
pened, and  was  sleeping  up  stairs  in  a  cabin  on 
Miss  Nancy  Carr's  farm.  A  pitiful  noise  waked 
me,  and  I  bounced  up  and  run  down,  and  the 
wood-pile  in  front  of  the  cabin  door  was  full  of 
stars ! 

"I  said,  'signs  and  wonders  in  the  heavens" 

"Mr.  Bob  Bellamy,  from  Kentucky,  was  work- 
ing at  Miss  Nancy's,  and  he  seemed  to  think  it 
was  funny,  the  way  the  colored  people  prayed 
and  shouted,  thinking  judgment  day  was  at  hand. 
We  could  hear  them  praying  at  Mr.  Riah  Grant's 
home,  as  plain  as  if  they  were  in  our  yard. 

"Brother  Martin  Grant  was  a  colored  preacher, 
and  a  mighty  good  man;  he  tried  to  reason  with 
them,  and  told  them  they  were  in  the  hands  of 
the  Lord,  and  He  would  deal  right  with  them. 

"The  white  folks  did  not  seem  to  be  much 
excited.  The  very  religious  ones  prayed  in  secret, 
but  they  made  no  great  noise ;  the  excitement  was 
mostly  among  the  colored  people,  and  the  ignorant 
white  folks. 

"After  daybreak,  and  it  began  to  get  light,  the 
stars  on  the  ground  grew  dim,  and  got  dimmer, 
and  dimmer,  till  the  sun  came  up  and  they  could 
not  be  seen  at  all.  An  old  Colored  man  living 
down  on  the  Clarksville  road  rejoiced  when  he 
saw  the  sun  rise,  and  said,  'Thank  God,  I  know 

52 


the  world  is  all  right  now,  for  the  sun  is  rising  in 
the  same  place!' 

"1  think  Brother  Robin  Northington  (at  that 
time  a  young  man  belonging  to  Mr.  David  North- 
ington) made  more  noise  than  any  colored  person 
in  the  neighborhood.  In  his  young  days  he  was 
inclined  to  be  wild,  and  when  he  thought  judgment 
day  had  found  him  unprepared,  it  was  time  to 
make  a  noise. 

"It  always  seemed  strange  to  me  that  Brother 
Robin  was  so  late  coming  into  the  church.  He 
was  eighty  odd,  when  he  joined  Mount  Zion 
last  year." 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

The  writer  witnessed  Uncle  Robin's  baptism 
in  Sulphur  Fork  Creek,  near  Mount  Zion  Church; 
there  were  eighty  candidates  for  baptism,  and 
Uncle  Horace  had  his  son  Altheus  to  perform 
the  sacred  rite. 

On  account  of  Uncle  Robin's  advanced  age, 
and  a  very  remarkable  experience  he  had  related 
the  day  he  joined  the  church,  he  seemed  to  be 
a  central  figure  of  the  occasion,  and  all  eyes  were 
turned  on  him,  as  he  stood  trembling  at  the 
water's  edge,  pleading,  "Now  Brer  Carr,  be  per- 
ticular,  and  dont  you  droun  me!" 

"Be  quiet  Brother  Northington,"  he  said  in  his 

5^ 


characteristic  dignified  tone,  "by  the  help  of  the 
Lord  I  will  take  you  safely  through;  Brother 
Edwards  and  Brother  Baldry  are  here  to  assist 
me  and  you  need  not  fear." 

It  was  soon  over,  and  his  nervousness  gave 
place  to  rejoicing.  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard 
sweeter  singing  than  went  up  from  hundreds  of 
colored  worshippers  on  the  hillsides  surrounding 
Mount  Zion  Church,  that  lovely  Sabbath  morning, 
October,  1875. 


U 


CHAPTER  VII. 


ITS  A  GRAND  THING  TO  MAKE  SOMETHING  OUT 
OF  THE  LIFE  GOD  HATH  GIVEN  US,  BUT  IT  IS  GRANDER 
STILL,  TO  REACH  THE  GREAT  END  OVER  GREAT 
DIFFICULTIES." 


James  William  Carr,  the  twelfth,  and  next  to 
the  youngest  child  of  Uncle  Horace,  and  Aunt 
Kitty,  attained  distinction  both  as  a  lecturer  and 
a  minister. 

A  Tennessean  by  birth,  and  a  Georgian  by 
Providence,  he  died  in  the  midst  of  his  usefulness 
at  Savannah,  Ga.,  August  25,  1907. 

In  his  youth,  he  professed  religion  and  joined 
Mount  Zion  during  his  father's  pastorate  of  the 
church.  His  early  educational  advantages  were 
poor,  but  he  was  ambitious,  and  lost  no  opportun- 
ity for  mental  improvement. 

Rev.  William  Carr  was  tall,  and  bright  colored, 
having  his  mother's  refined  features,  and  his 
father's  good  physique. 

A  blend  of  both  parents  in  looks,  and  Christian 
principles. 

55 


That  he  was  appreciative,  the  following  letter 
received  by  the  writer,  a  short  time  before  his 
death,  will  show: 

Savannah,  Ga.,  May  13,  1907. 

"Mrs.  /.  F.  Miller — Kind  Friend:  Today  my 
thoughts  go  back  to  the  scenes  of  my  boyhood, 
away  back  in  the  70's,  when  I  worked  for  your 
father.  How  well  do  I  remember  the  day  he 
hired  me,  and  carried  me  home  behind  him,  on  a 
big  sorrel  horse  he  called  Charlie. 

"I  had  never  lived  with  white  people,  and 
Mother  Kitty  did  not  think  I  would  be  satisfied, 
but  I  was,  and  stayed  several  months,  going  home 
every  Saturday  evening. 

"I  date  my  start  in  life  to  the  study  table  in 
your  father's  family  room  at  night,  around  which 
I  was  not  only  permitted  the  use  of  books,  but 
was  also  instructed  in  them. 

"One' day  I  ventured  to  ask  you  to  set  me  some 
copies,  in  a  rude  copy  book  I  had  pinned  together 
of  foolscap  paper.  You  asked  if  I  wanted  words, 
or  sentences.  I  was  embarrassed,  for  I  did  not 
know  the  difference,  and  you  set  both. 

"I  feel  profoundly  grateful  to  you,  and  your 
family,  for  the  interest  manifested  in  the  little 
yellow  boy  from  near  Horse  Shoe  Bend. 

"I  have  traveled  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Pacific,  and  from  Lake  Michigan  to  the  Gulf  of 

56 


Rev.  John  William  Carr,  Savannah,  Ga. 


Mexico,  and  I  have  been  treated  with  respec* 
wherever  I  have  gone. 

"I  am  at  present  pastor  of  the  First  African 
Baptist  Church  of  Savannah.  It  was  organized 
in  1788.  The  membership  is  5,000,  and  the  value 
of  the  church  property,  $100,000.00.  This  church 
has  had  only  six  pastors  during  its  existence  of 
119  years;  I  am  its  sixth. 

"The  race  riot  in  Atlanta  a  few  months  ago, 
has  in  no  way  changed  my  opinion  of  the  South, 
as  being  the  proper  home  of  the  negro. 

"I  am  glad  you  visited  my  mother,  and  took 
down  in  writing  some  interesting  incidents  of  her 
life. 

"My  parents  were  unlettered  it  is  true,  for 
their  sphere  was  limited,  but  our  Heavenly 
Father  can  be  glorified  in  little  things  as  well  as 
great  things. 

"It  matters  not  how  small  the  deed  of  kindness 
done,  it  is  the  motive  that  dignifies  the  action. 

"Providence  permitting,  I  hope  to  visit  Port 
Royal  next  fall,  and  meet  once  more  in  the  flesh 
my  friends  and  kindred  there.  If  I  come  I  will 
preach  a  sermon  or  two  at  Mount  Zion.  It  is  a 
dear  old  church  to  me,  and  the  quiet  spot  near 
by,  in  which  sleeps  the  dust  of  my  father  and 
two  brothers,  is  dearer  still. 

57 


"May    God's    richest    blessings    rest    on    your 
household,  is  the  prayer  of, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

J.  W.  Carr. 


In  three  months  after  the  above  letter  was 
written,  Rev.  William  Carr  was  stricken  with 
fever  and  died.  The  news  of  his  death  was  tele- 
graphed to  his  only  surviving  brother,  Horace 
Carr,  of  District  No.  1,  Montgomery  county,  Tenn. 

Immediately  following  this,  memorial  services 
were  held  in  several  Middle  Tennessee  and  South- 
ern Kentucky  churches  in  which  he  had  preached 
before  making  Savannah  his  home. 

Deceased  was  twice  married.  His  second  wife 
and  several  children  survive  him. 

Apropos  of  Rev.  William  Carr's  reference  to 
the  First  African  Baptist  Church  at  Savannah, 
I  quote  the  following  from  an  article  in  the  In- 
fonrer,  written  by  Wm.  L.  Craft  (col.),  Field 
Secretary  of  the  National  B.  Y.  P.  U.  Board, 
Nashville,  Tennessee: 

"The  colored  Baptists  of  the  United  States 
have  cause  to  feel  proud  of  the  results  of  their 
distinctive  organic  church  work  within  the  past 
120  years. 

And  to  the  State  of  Georgia  we  owe  it,  to  call 

58 


her  the  Mother  State  of  negro  organic  church 
life. 

"It  was  in  Savannah,  January  20,  1788,  that 
the  first  negro  Baptist  church  was  organized  by 
Rev.  Andrew  Bryan,  and  numerous  other  slaves 
converted  under  his  earnest  preaching. 

"Rev.  Bryan  was  converted  under  the  preaching 
of  Rev.  George  Leile,  and  baptized,  1783,  in  the 
Savannah  River.  At  the  close  of  the  Civil  War, 
1865,  there  were  400,000  negro  Baptists  in  the 
United  States. 

"Today  they  are  estimated  at  3,000,000,  and 
well  organized.  The  National  Colored  Baptist 
Convention  was  organized  at  Montgomery,  Ala., 
in  1880,  and  shows  89  State  Conventions;  559 
Associations;  18,214  churches;  17,217  ordained 
ministers;  15,625  Sunday  Schools;  73,172  officers 
and  teachers-;  788,016  pupils. 

"The  officers  of  this  National  Convention  are 
as  follows:  Rev.  E.  C.  Morris,  D.  D.,  Helena,  Ark., 
President;  Prof.  R.  B.  Hudson,  A.  M.,  Selma, 
Ala.,  Recording  Secretary;  Rev.  A.  J.  Stokes, 
D.  D.,  Montgomery,  Ala.,  Treasurer;  Rev.  Robert 
Mitchell,  A.  M.,  D.  D.,  Bowling  Green,  Ky., 
Auditor;  Rev.  S.  W.  Bacote,  D.  D.,  Statistician. 

"The  work  of  this  great  body  is  conducted  by 
National  Boards,  under  the  management  of  Cor- 
responding Secretaries. 

50 


"The  denominational  organ  speaking  for  this 
Convention,  is  The  National  Baptist  Union,  pub- 
lished weekly  at  Nashville,  Tenn.  E.  W.  D. 
Isaac,  D.  D.,  is  editor,  and  said  to  be  one  of  the 
ablest  in  the  United  States." 

It  was  in  a  speech  made  on  Georgia  soil,  that 
first  gave  Booker  T.  Washington  the  eye  and  ear 
of  the  Nation,  when  he  said,  "It  is  worth  far 
more  to  the  negro  to  have  the  privilege  of  making 
an  honest  dollar  side  by  side  with  the  white  man, 
than  it  is  to  have  the  privilege  of  spending  that 
dollar  sitting  by  him  in  a  theatre."  It  is  this 
wholesome  doctrine  that  has  given  him  the  right 
influence  among  right  thinking  people  of  both 
races. 

When  Booker  Washington  left  Hampton  Insti- 
tute, Virginia,  that  great  school  for  the  practical 
training  of  the  negro,  he  began  his  life  work  at  a 
country  cross  roads,  near  Tuskegee,  Alabama.  It 
proved  a  good  stopping  place  for  that  young  and 
penniless,  but  cultured  son  of  Hampton  Institute. 

As  an  educator  and  civic  builder,  he  is  known 
and  honored  wherever  the  forces  of  Christian 
civilization  recount  their  worthies,  and  crown 
their  heroes.  It  is  a  remarkable  record,  that  in 
all  his  utterances,  on  both  sides  of  the  sea,  Booker 
Washington  has  never  been  known  to  say  a 
foolish  or  intemperate  thing. 
60 


speaking  further  of  Georgia,  it  is  asserted  on 
good  authority  that  the  negroes  of  this  State 
pay  taxes  on  something  over  $18,000,000  worth 
of  property.  It  is  property  at  last,  that  is  the 
test  of  civilized  citizenship,  especially  in  a  land 
where  good  men  may  readilv  attain  it. 

With  whiskey  out  of  the  reach  of  a  race  having 
a  lamentable  weakness  for  it.  it  is  highly  p)robable 
that  these  figures  will  be  greatly  increased  within 
the  next  decade.  The  truth  is  gradually  becom- 
ing known  to  the  world,  that  the  South  is  giving 
to  the  negro  the  only  square  deal  a  white  race 
ever  gave  to  one  of  another  color,  living  among 
them  under  tiie  same  laws. 

Through  the  refining  influence  of  the  holy 
teachings  of  the  Man  of  Galilee,  the  Southern 
white  man  is  harmonizing  with  his  "Brothers  in 
Black."  to  a  degree  that  he  is  spending  three 
hundred  million  dollars  in  their  education;  not 
only  this,  but  he  is  supplying  them  with  wealth 
accunmlating  work,  and  allowing  them  to  enjoy 
the  rights  of  peaceable  citizenship.  That  they 
duly  appreciate  all  this,  is  daily  expressed  in  the 
right  living  of  the  best  elenient  of  our  colored 
population. 


61 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE     ONLY     PERMANENT     BASIS     OF     SPIRITTTAL 
LIFE     IS  THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF  SOULS." 


In  the  preparation  of  this  Httle  book,  it  has 
been  my  earnest  desire  to  secure  my  information 
from  reliable  sources,  and  so  far,  I  think  I  have 
succeeded  in  doing  so. 

After  writing  the  preceding  chapters,  it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  would  like  to  read  them  to  some 
member  of  the  Carr  family,  before  giving  them 
to  the  public.  So  Rev.  Luke  Fort,  of  Guthrie, 
Ky.,  came  to  my  home.  May  13,  1911,  and  spent 
a  good  portion  of  the  day. 

Rev.  Fort,  in  antebellum  times,  belonged  to 
Mr.  Lawson  Fort,  He  is  sixty-four  years  of  age, 
and  the  most  of  his  useful  life  was  spent  on  the 
Fort  plantation.  He  was  married  during  the  70 's 
to  Annie,  youngest  daughter  of  Uncle  Horace  and 
Aunt  Kitty  Carr. 

Rev.  Fort  not  only  endorsed  as  correct  what 
had  already  been  written,  but  he  gave  me  addi- 

62 


tional  information  that  I  consider  both  valuable 
and  interesting.  He  spoke  in  part  as  fol- 
lows: 

"When  I  first  heard  that  you  wished  to  talk 
to  nie  of  a  family  I  loved  so  well,  I  was  afraid  I 
could  be  of  but  little  assistance  to  you,  but  after 
hearing  you  read  what  had  already  lieen  written 
mv  nund  was  awakened,  and  the  old  scenes  came 
back  to  me. 

"I  was  the  son- m -law  of  these  dear  old  people 
nineteen  years,  and  twelve  years  of  that  time, 
(after  Father  Horace's  death)  Mother  Kitty  lived 
with  me. 

"It  was  while  I  was  a  tenant  on  Mr.  W.  D. 
Fort's  farm.  After  the  day's  work  was  done,  we 
used  to  gather  around  the  fireside  in  winter,  or 
on  the  front  porch  in  Summer,  and  listen  to  her 
talk.  Everybody  liked  to  hear  her  talk.  But 
after  she  broke  up  housekeeping  and  had  no 
cares,  if  possible,  she  seemed  more  interesthig 
than  at  any  period  of  her  life.  My  regret  is,  that 
I  did  not  take  more  note  of  what  she  said. 

"Her  theme  was  religion,  for  she  was  an  every 
day  Christian.  Inuring  her  widowhood,  she  went 
to  live  awhile  with  her  son,  William,  who  was  at 
that  time  living  at  Indianapolis  Indiana,  but- 
she  was  not  satisfied,  and  soon  returned  to  Ten- 
nessee. At  her  advanced  age,  she  could  not  get 
63 


tised  to  the  great  difference  between  town  and 
country  life. " 

From  Aunt  Kitty  we  turned  to  Uncle  Horace, 
and  Rev.  Fort  continued: 

"Father  Horace  had  his  own  peculiar  style  of 
preaching,  and  often  his  sermons  would  be  made 
up  entirely  of  some  good  religious  experience  he 
had  especially  enjoyed. 

"He  was  partial  to  the  Gospel  of  John,  and  the 
best  sermon  I  ever  heard  him  preach  was  from 
the  15th  chapter  and  1st  verse,  'I  am  the  true 
vine,  and  my  Father  is  the  husbandman.'  Feeling 
the  infirmities  of  old  age  coming  on,  and  knowing 
that  Altheus  had  chosen  the  ministry,  he  often 
put  him  to  the  front  in  the  pulpit,  while  he  sat 
back,  in  his  humble  way,  and  directed  the  service. 
While  sitting  beneath  the  sound  of  his  voice,  in 
Scriptural  language  he  doubtless  thought  to  him- 
self, 'This  is  my  son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased.' 
He  seemed  to  be  getting  ready  for  Altheus  to  step 
into  his  shoes,  and  carry  ori  the  good  work  he  had 
begun.     The  foundation  had  been  laid." 

Rev.  Fort  then  paid  fine  tribute  to  the  memories 
of  his  white  people,  Mr.  Lawson  Fort,  and  his 
pious  v.'ife.  To  the  latter  he  said  he  owed  his 
first  religious  impressions.  When  a  mere  boy 
waiting  about  the  house,  she  talked  to  him  of 
salvation  in  a  way  that  he  understood,  and  he 

64 


Rev.  Luke  Fort,  Guthrie,  Ky. 


was  led  to  tnist  his  Savior  at  an  early  as^e.  And 
after  he  was  a  middle  aged  man,  she  often  invited 
him  to  attend  devotional  exercises  in  the  seclusion 
of  her  family  room ;  on  one  accasion  she  requested 
him  to  lead  in  prayer,  which  he  did. 

Never  having  heard  of  the  colored  meetings 
held  on  the  Fort  plantation  before  the  war,  only 
in  a  general  way,  I  asked  Rev.  Luke  Fort  if  he 
remembered  one,  and  he  said  he  did,  very  dis- 
tinctly. It  was  during  the  middle  50 's  when  he 
was  about  seven  years  old.  It  was  Saturday 
night,  and  the  first  time  he  ever  hcvard  Uncle 
Horace  preach 

The  service  was  held  in  what  they  called  Aunt 
Margaret's  house,  a  large,  comfortable  log  room, 
with  a  shed  at  one  end,  and  an  upstairs.  There 
were  two  doors  in  the  main  room,  opposite  each 
other,  and  facing  east  and  west.  Along  between 
ten  and  eleven,  o'clock  the  meeting  reached  its 
most  enjoyable  stage.  The  good  old  time  songs 
were  rr-aking  their  souls  happy.  Uncle  Horace 
led  the  songs,  and  his  face  wore  that  placid  look 
that  seemed  to  speak  that  no  wave  of  trouble 
would  ever  roll  across  his  peaceful  breast,"  when 
a  rap  was  heard  at  the  front  door,  and  before 
they  had  time  to  think,  in  rushed  a  band  of 
patrolers ! 

As  they  came  in  at  the  east  door,  the  confused 
65 


congregation  made  hastv  exit  from  the  west  door. 

The  news  was  quickly  conveyed  to  the  kind 
old  master,  who  sent  his  son,  the  late  Sugg  Fort, 
to  the  scene  of  excitement.  Young  Mr.  Fort 
approached  the  patrolers  in  a  very  dignified 
manner;  and  informed  them  that  his  father  had 
sent  him  to  tell  them  that  their  services  were  not 
needed  on  his  premises.  It  was  before  the  countv 
line  had  been  changed,  Mr.  Fort's  residence  was 
then  in  Montgomery  county,  instead  of  Robertson, 
its  present  location,  and  the  patrolers  were  from 
Port  Ro3^al. 

(For  the  benefit  of  a  younger  generation  of 
readers,  I  will  state  that  patrolers  were  organized 
bands  of  white  men,  appointed  in  each  neighbor- 
hood, for  the  piu-pose  of  going  about  at  night  and 
keeping  order  among  a  doubtful  element  of  colored 
people  who  left  home  without  passes,  or  written 
permission  from  their  owners.  The  unfortunate 
condition  of  affairs  demanded  it,  and  still  more 
unfortunate  was  it,  that  the  appointment,  or 
office,  too  often  fell  into  cruel  and  inhuman 
hands.) 

There  lived  at  Port  Royal,  a  fine  looking  colored 
man  by  the  name  of  Dean  Dancy,  the  property 
of  the  late  John  A.  Dancy.  It  so  happened  that 
Dean  was  masquerading  this  particular  Saturday 
night  without  a  pass,  and  unhickily  fell  into  the 


hands  of  the  patrolers.  Knowing  they  would 
deal  roughly  w4th  him  under  such  circumstances, 
he  compromised  the  matter  by  telling  them,  if 
they'd  let  him  off  jtist  this  one  time,  he'd  pilot 
them  to  a  negro  meeting,  where  they  could  find 
a  housefull  of  people  without  passes,  and  this  was 
why  Uncle  Horace's  meeting  was  so  disturbed. 

Monday  morning  Mr.  Fort  ordered  his  saddle 
horse  brought  out  unusually  early;  he  rode  over 
to  Port  Ropal  and  informed  Mr.  Dancy  of  what 
his  boy  Dean  had  done,  and  the  trickster  had  to 
make  some  pretty  fair  promises  to  escape  punish- 
ment. 

On  the  same  night  that  Dean  Dancy  led  the 
patrolers  to  molest  the  quiet  worshipers  on  Mr. 
Fort's  plantation,  an  amusing  scene  was  enacted 
in  a  dry  goods  store  at  Port  Royal.  It  was  during 
the  late  fall,  and  several  of  the  village  clerks  had 
put  up  a  notice  that  they  would  pay  liberally 
for  a  fat,  well  cooked  o'possum,  delivered  at 
Dancy  and  Kirby's  store.  Joe  Gaines,  a  tall 
brown  skinned  man  belonging  to  W.  N.  Gaines, 
gleaned  the  persimmon  trees  round  about  the 
Gaines  premises,  and  failing  to  find  an  o'possum, 
conceived  the  idea  of  substituting  a  fat  house-cat. 
After  it  was  nicely  cooked,  he  stepped  out  by  the 
light  of  the  moon,  with  his  pass  in  his  pocket,  and 
hope  in  his  heart  of  bringing  back  a  silver  dollar. 
67 


The  clerks  from  the  other  business  houses 
assembled  at  Dancy  and  Kirby's,  where  a  spread 
was  set  for  eight  o  possum  eaters.  Dr.  J.  T. 
Darden  a  young  physician  from  Tumersville, 
had  a  short  time  before  located  at  Port  Royal, 
and  was  invited  to  the  feast.  When  the  dish 
containing  the  supposed  delectable  marsupial  was 
uncovered,  it  was  observed  that  the  young  physi- 
cian began  to  view  it  with  a  suspicious  eye.  He 
called  Mr.  T.  M.  Kirby  to  one  side  and  told  him 
the  carcass  was  not  that  of  an  o 'possum  and  they 
must  not  eat  it.  Upon  closer  examination  it  was 
very  plain  that  it  was  a  cat. 

Without  a  word,  Mr.  Dancy  walked  to  the  front 
door  and  turned  the  key,  locking  them  in ;  a  pistol 
was  placed  on  the  table,  and  Joe  was  informed 
that  he  must  devour  that  cat,  or  suffer  the  aon- 
sequences. 

It  required  the  effort  of  his  life,  but  he  choked 
it  down.  If  Dean  and  Joe  ever  had  good  inten- 
tions, Satan  certainly  run  rough  shod  over  them 
all  that  Saturday  night. 

******* 

Along  with  the  progress  of  colored  churches 
within  the  past  four  decades,  that  of  orders,  and 
societies  is  worthy  of  mention. 

Within  a  short  distance  of  each   other,   they 
have,  near  Port  Royal,   both  Odd  Fellows  and 
68 


Benevolent  Society  halls.  Of  the  latter  society 
I  shall  speak  more  in  detail,  from  the  fact  that 
it  is  much  older  as  an  organization,  in  this  com- 
munity, and  has  done  so  much  for  its  membefs. 
It  was  organized,  October,  1872,  in  a  little  log 
school  room,  on  what  was  called  Sugar  Camp 
Branch,  on  Miss  Ellen  Yates'  farm. 

Dennis  Neblett,  a  good  colored  man  of  that 
vicinity,  was  the  ])rime  mover  in  the  enterprise, 
and  called  to  his  assistance  in  its  organization 
Granville  Wilcox  and  Henry  Roberts  (col.),  of 
Clarksville,  Tenn. 

They  organized  with  thirty  charter  members, 
and  Dennis  Neblett  was  elected  President,  which 
office  he  faithfully  filled  for  thirty-seven  years. 

This  feeble  but  faithful  little  band  met  three 
years  in  Sugar  Camp  Branch  school  room,  after 
which  the  house  was  moved  farther  down  the 
creek,  on  Mr.  Henry  Rosson's  farm.  Being  too 
remote  from  the  majority  of  its  members,  they 
lost  interest  and  failed  to  attend  the  meetings  as 
they  had  formerly  done,  so  the  officers  adopted 
the  plan  of  meeting  in  the  homes  of  the  members, 
and  occasionally  at  the  churches. 

The  change  awakened  renewed  interest,  and 
from  that  tim.e  on,  it  gradually  increased  from, 
thirty  members  to  something  near  one  hundred 
and    fiftv.     Tts    noble    mission    is    to    assist    the 


disabled,  nurse  the  sick,  and  bitry  the  dead. 

In  the  early  90 's  they  bought  a  lot  on  the  prin- 
cipal street  of  Port  Royal,  on  which  they  erected 
a  very  modest  little  hall  They  were  fortunate 
in  making  this  investment  at  that  date,  as  the 
remainder  of  their  treasury,  $200.00  (two  hundred) 
deposited  in  a  Clarksville  bank,  was  lost  during 
the  failure  of  several  banks  at  that  time  in  Clarks- 
ville. After  meeting  at  Poit  Roval  lodge  a  num- 
ber of  years,  they  decided  to  purchase  a  more 
suitable  location.  The  old  Carr  home  near  Port 
Royal  had  been  dismantled,  and  the  land  was 
bought  bv  Mr.  Joshua  Ford,  a  prosperous  farmer 
of  District  No.  5,  Montgomery  county.  Mr.  Ford 
disposed  of  his  purchase  in  lots,  Jerry  Fort  (col.) 
being  the  first  purchaser  of  five  acres,  on  which 
he  built  a  comfortable  little  home. 

Jerry  and  Harry  Grant,  as  Trustees  for  the 
Benevolent  Society,  were  appointed  to  purchase 
three  acres  of  the  same  tract,  adjoining  his,  for 
a  burying  groimd,  and  also  a  parade  ground  for 
the  society.  The  purchase  was  made,  but  after- 
ward sold  for  residence  lots,  now  owned  and 
occupied  by  Jane  Davis.  Lecie  Hollins  and  George 
Watson. 

A  large  tobacco  bam  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road,  fronting  the  Fort  home,  had  been  used  for 
several  years  as  a  shelter  for  the  society  when  the 

70 


members  gave  barbecues  and  other  out-door 
festivities.  This  bam  including  one-quarter  of 
an  acre,  was  bought  by  the  Trustees,  the  building 
sold  to  Sim  Polk  Tcol.)  and  moved  to  his  farm 
on  Parson's  Creek,  and  a  nice  Hall,  Benevolent 
Treasure  No.  7,  erected  on  the  site,  at  a  cost  of 
something  less  than  a  thousand  dollars.  This 
building  speaks  well  for  its  enterprising  members, 
and  is  an  ornament  to  the  roadside. 

Added  to  the  membership,  is  a  juvenile  branch 
of  the  order,  consisting  of  about  fifty  polite  bovs 
and  girls,  ranging  from  four  to  sixteen  years  of  age. 

In  its  first  organization,  1872,  this  society  was 
known  as  Benevolent  Society  No.  3,  but  a  few 
vears  ago  changed  conditions  made  it  necessary 
to  reorganize,  after  which  it  was  called  Benevolent 
Treasure  No.  7.  Its  present  officers  are  as  fol- 
lows : 

Sim  Polk,  President. 

John  Person,  Vice-President. 

George  Watson,  Recording  Secretary. 

Waymond  Polk,  Assistant  Secretary. 

Harry  Grant,  Treasurer. 

Willis  Northington,  Chaplain. 

Weight  Watkins,  Lizzie  Dortch,  Chairmen  of 
Sick  Committee. 

Demps  Trabue,  Chairman  Executive  Committee. 

The  meetings  are  held  semi-monthly. 
71 


CHAPTER  IX. 


RECOLLECTION     IS     THP;     ONLY    PARADISE     FROM 
WHICH  WE  CANNOT  BE  TURNED  OUT." 

it 

To  the  aged,  it  is  a  delightful  refuge.  I  found 
this  especially  true  in  the  case  of  Aunt  Gaines 
Williams,  whom  I  visited  May  10,   1911. 

She  ^^as  living  with  her  youngest  daughter, 
Mrs.  Sarah  Northington,  on  Esq.  James  H.  Achey's 
farm.  Not  until  I  began,  several  years  ago,  to 
interview  these  faithful  old  colored  representatives 
of  antebellum  times,  did  I  know  how  their  minds 
were  stored  with  rich  recollections. 

T  was  anxious  to  talk  with  Aunt  Eliza,  because 
she  had  been  in  touch  with  the  Carr  family  all 
her  life,  and  her  daughter  had  been  the  wife  of 
the  late  Rev.  Altheus  Carr. 

Aunt  Eliza  was  born  in  1828.  as  the  property 
of  Major  James  Norfleet,  a  prominent  citizen  of 
Robertson  county,  who  owned  large  possessions 
on  Sulphur  Fork  Creek;  his  homestead  site  being 
now  owned  by  Greer   Brothers,   a   mile   or  two 

72 


Aunt  Eliza  Gaines  W44HfHns.      Mother  of  five 
generations  of  her  family. 


son;  their  oldest  daughter,  Margaret,  married  Gabe 
Washington,  and  their  daughter,  Amanda,  has 
grand-children.  While  1  was  talking  about  my 
white  folks.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  they  were  kin  to 
the  'big  folks,'  the  Bakers,  the  Dortch's,  and 
Governor  Blount.  These  three  families  lived  out 
on  Parson's  Creek,  and  Major  Baker  gave  the 
land  on  his  place  for  that  great  camp  ground, 
called  Baker's  Camp  Ground.  Lor,  the  good  old 
times  the  people  used  to  have  at  the  Baker's 
camp  meetings.  You  could  hear  them  shouting 
for  miles!  The  little  church  wasn't  much  larger 
than  a  family  room,  but  they  had  tents  all  along 
the  creek  bottom  near  the  big  Baker  spring,  and 
held  the  meetings  two  or  three  weeks  at  a  time. 
Brother  Horace  Carr  enjoyed  these  camp  meet- 
ings; I've  heard  him  tell  of  some  of  the  big  ser- 
mons old  Dr.  Hanner,  Dr.  West,  and  others  used 
to  preach  there,  but  somehow  he  was  partial  to 
Red  River  Church,  above  all  the  rest.  It  was 
through  his  influence  that  I,  and  a  host  of  others 
joined  Red  River,  and  then  when  we  were  freed, 
and  the  Lord  blessed  us  with  a  church  of  our 
own,  we  followed  him  to  Mount  Zion. 

"If  everybody  that  Brother  Horace  influenced 
to  be  Christians  here  on  earth  are  with  him  in 
heaven  today,  he  has  a  glorious  throng  around 
him.     I   will   never  forget   the  last   time   I   saw 

73 


southeast  of  Port  Royal.  At  her  birth,  Major 
Norfleet  gave  her  to  his  daughter  Louisa,  who 
named  her  for  a  favorite  schoolmate,  Mary  Eliza 
Wheatley,  but  for  short  they  always  called  her 
Eliza.  Her  mind  seemed  to  d^^e\\  first,  on  her 
white  people,  of  whom  she  spoke  as  follows: 

"Mv  young  Mistress,  Miss  Louisa  Norfleet, 
married  Mr.  Abraham  Gaines,  Mr.  Billie  Gaines' 
father,  and  lived  where  Mr.  Ed.  Bourne  now 
lives,  in  the  village  of  Port  Royal.  When  Mr. 
Billie  Gaines  was  a  few  months  old  his  mother 
went  to  Mr.  Sam  Northington's  to  spend  a  few 
days,  and  while  she  was  there  she  ate  something 
that  disagreed  with  her,  and  died  suddenly  from 
congestion  of  the  stomach. 

"I  had  a  baby  child  nearly  the  same  age  of 
hers,  and  I  nursed  them  both  at  my  own  breast. 
That  has  been  sixty  odd  years  ago,  but  I  grieve 
for  her  till  yet,  for  she  was  good  to  me.  I'm 
trying  to  be  ready  to  meet  her.  Mr.  Billie  Gaines 
does  not  forget  me;  he  comes  to  see  me,  and  sends 
me  a  present  now  and  then,  and  so  does  Mr. 
Frazier  Northington. 

"I  was  the  mother  of  fourteen  cliildren  by  my 
first  husband,  Wiley  Gaines,  and  there  is  some- 
thing in  mv  family  that  very  few  people  live  to 
see,  the  fifth  generation.  My  oldest  daughter, 

Annie,  married  Henry  Fort,  Sister  Margaret  Fort's 
74 


him.  I  heard  he  was  sick,  and  I  went  over  and 
carried  him  a  lunch  basket  of  nice  things  to  eat. 
The  weather  was  warm,  and  he  was  able  to  bring 
his  chair  out  and  sit  in  his  yard.  He  had  dropsy 
and  did  not  live  very  long  after  that.  He  talked 
of  heaven  most  of  the  time;  he  would  clap  his 
hands  and  say: 

'I'm  nearing  my  Father's  house, 

Where  many  mansions  be, 
Nearer  the  great  white  throne. 

My  people  are  waiting  for  me.' 

"I  used  to  go  to  Brother  Horace's  prayer  meet- 
ings that  he  held  aroimd  at  night  in  homes  that 
permitted  him,  and  one  night  he  called  on  me  to 
pray  in  public.  I  was  confused,  and  did  not  say 
but  a  few  words,  but  he  told  me  that  a  few  from 
the  heart  were  worth  ten  thousand  from  the 
tongue.  When  I  told  him  good  bye,  the  last  visit 
I  made  him,  he  held  my  hand  a  long  time,  and 
pointed  toward  heaven  and  said,  'In  the  name 
of  our  Lord,  we  must  set  up  our  banner.  Set  it 
high,  and  never  look  down.'  " 

After  the  first  talk  with  Aunt  Eliza,  I  made  a 
second  visit,  the  same  week,  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  her  picture,  but  after  reaching  her  home 

75 


ajrain  storm  came  on  suddenly,  and  we  could  not 
get  the  sunlight  necessary  to  picture  making.  She 
had  peen  advised  by  telephone  that  we  would  be 
there,  and  was  nicely  dressed  for  the  occasion. 
Strange  to  say,  she  was  eighty-two  years  old,  and 
had  never  had  a  picture  taken. 

We  succeeded  next  day  however,  in  securing 
a  very  good  one. 

On  my  second  visit  to  her  she  met  me  at  the 
door  in  her  characteristic  pleasant  manner  and  said : 

"I've  been  studying  a  heap  about  what  you 
said  and  read  to  me  the  other  evening  when  you 
were  here,  and  I  told  my  daughter  that  I  believed 
the  Lord  had  directed  you  to  write  this  history 
of  my  people,  and  their  early  struggles.  If  some- 
body does  not  take  it  up,  the  old  heads  will  all 
soon  be  gone,  and  there  will  be  nobody  left  to  tell 
the  story." 

Among  the  older  members  of  Mount  Zion 
Church  who  have  aided  me  materially  in  securing 
facts  concerning  its  early  history,  I  would  mention 
Dan  and  Jerry  Fort.  While  neither  of  them  were 
charter  members,  they  have  been  prominently 
identified  with  the  church  for  many  years.  They 
have  seen  it  rise  from  the  little  box  house,  with 
its  seventy  unlettered  members  of  forty-three 
years  ago,  to  a  reasonably  well  educated  mem- 
bership of  something  over  three  hundred. 
76 


Crude  and  humble  as  that  first  church  building 
was,  I  have  heard  it  said  that  Uncle  Horace  on 
preaching  days  would  pause  on  the  hillside  before 
entering,  and  praise  God  for  the  privileges  he 
enjoyed.  It  seemed  that  a  new  heart  was  in  his 
bosom  and  a  new  song  was  on  his  lips.  He  loved 
the  little  house  of  worship  as  though  it  had  been 
handed  down  to  him  as  a  present,  direct  from 
heaven. 

Uncle  Horace  was  instrumental  in  organizing 
two  other  churches  besides  Mount  Zion,  Antioch, 
near  Turners  ville,  in  Robertson  county,  and 
Nevil's  Chapel,  near  Rudolphtown,  in  Montgom- 
ery. Along  with  prominent  mention  of  the  great 
Christian  leader  of  his  people,  I  must  not  omit 
due  tribute  to  some  of  his  followers;  principal 
among  whom  was  Uncle  John  McGowan,  a  member 
of  Mount  Zion  Church  forty-two  years,  and  all 
the  time  leading  a  life  worthy  of  emulation. 

Uncle  John  was  born  on  what  was  known  as 
the  George  Wimberly  place  near  Ross  view,  in 
Montgomery  county,  in  1822.  He  was  the  prop- 
erty of  Miss  Katherine  Wimberly,  who  married 
Mr.  Milton  Bourne,  brother  of  the  late  Mr.  William 
Bourne,  of  Port  Royal,  Tenn.  Mr.  Milton  Bourne 
owned  and  settled  the  present  homestead  site 
of  Mr.  John  Gower,  of  Port  Royal.  After  living 
happily  there  for  a  number  of  years,  he  became 
77 


financially  embarrassed,  and  was  forced  to  sell 
some  of  his  most  valuable  slaves.  Among  them, 
in  young  manhood's  prime,  was  Uncle  John,  who, 
in  no  spirit  of  bitterness,  often  referred  to  his 
sale  as  follows:  "A  large  block,  or  box,  was  placed 
in  the  front  yard  for  us  to  stand  on,  that  the 
bidders  might  get  a  good  look  at  us.  The  bid 
opened  lively  when  I  was  put  up,  for  I  was  con- 
sidered a  pretty  likely  man,  as  the  saying  went. 
When  the  bidding  went  way  up  into  several 
hundred  dollars,  I  was  knocked, ofif  to  Mr.  Lawson 
Fort.  I  was  glad  of  that,  for  I  had  lived  near 
him  and  knew  him  to  be  a  good  man.  I  hadn't 
long  settled  my  mind  down  on  having  a  good 
home  the  balance  of  my  life,  when  up  comes 
somebody  and  told  me  Mr.  Fort  didn't  buy  me, 
he  was -just  bidding  for  Mr.  Patrick  McGowan. 
'My  feathers  fell,'  as  the  saying  is,  for  I  didn't 
know  how  me  and  an  Irishman  I  didn't  know 
anything  about  were  going  to  get  along  together. 
But  it  so  happened  that  we  got  along  fine;  while 
his  ways  were  a  little  different  from  what  I  had 
been  used  to  with  Mr.  Bourne  and  the  Wimberleys, 
I  soon  found  him  to  be  a  man  that  would  treat 
you  right  if  you  deserved  it.  He  had  his  own 
curious  way  of  farming,  and  no  matter  what  price 
was  paid  for  tobacco,  he  would  not  let  a  plant 
grow  on  his  place.     He  had  a  very  good  little 

78 


farm  joining  the  Royster  place,  and  raised  more 
potatoes  than  anybody  in  that  whole  country. 

"I  have  heard  him  tell  often  of  letting  Elder 
Reuben  Ross,  the  great  Baptist  preacher  that 
came  to  this  country  from  North  Carolina  over 
a  hundred  years  ago,  live  in  a  cabin  in  his  yard 
till  he  could  arrange  to  get  a  better  home.  Elder 
Ross  had  a  large  family,  and  Mr.  McGowan  took 
some  of  them  in  his  own  house.  He  was  kind 
to  strangers,  and  never  turned  the  needy  from 
his  door. 

"I  must  tell  you  of  a  whipping  I  got  while  I 
belonged  to  Mr.  Milton  Bourne,  that  I  did  not 
deserve,  and  if  I  had  the  time  to  go  over  again,  I 
would  whip  the  negro  who  caused  me  to  get  it. 
There  was  a  still  house  on  Red  River,  not  far 
from  Mr.  Sugg  Fort's  mill,  it  was  long  before  Mr. 
Fort  owned  the  mill;  Mr.  Joe  Wimberly  owned 
and  operated  the  stillhouse.  In  that  day  and 
time,  the  best  people  of  the  land  made  whiskey; 
it  was  pure,  honest  whiskey,  and  did  not  make 
those  who  drank  it  do  mean  things,  like  the 
whiskey  of  today.  Mr.  Bourne  had  hired  me  to 
Mr.  Wimberly  to  work  in  the  still  house,  with  a 
lot  of  other  boys,  about  my  age — along  about 
nineteen  and  twenty  years  old.  We  were  a 
lively  set  of  youngsters,  and  laid  a  plan  to  steal 
a  widow  woman's  chickens  one  night  and 
79 


have  a  chicken  fry.  We  took  a  solemn  pledge 
just  before  we  started,  that  we  would  never  "tell 
on  each  other,  if  the  old  lady  suspicioned  us. 
Well  we  stole  them,  and  one  of  the  boys,  Bob 
Herndon,  who  had  been  raised  to  help  his  mamm}^ 
about  the  kitchen,  was  a  pretty  good  cook,  and 
he  fried  them.  I  think  it  was  the  best  fried 
chicken  I  ever  put  in  my  mouth.  A  day  or  two 
went  by,  the  still  house  shut  down,  and  they  put 
me  to  work  in  the  field.  Corn  was  knee  high,  I 
was  chopping  out  bushes  in  a  field  near  the  river, 
when  I  saw  Mr.  Wimberly's  overseer  come  stepping 
down  the  turn  row  lii<e  he  was  mad  as  a  hornet. 
I  knew  him  so  well,  I  could  tell  when  he  was 
mad,  as  far  as  I  could  see  him.  My  heart  began 
to  beat  pretty  fast,  as  he  asked  about  the  chickens. 
I  told  him  I  did  not  know  a  thing,  about  them, 
but  when  he  began  to  tell  things  that  really  took 
place,  I  knew  some  one  had  given  us  away.  He 
got  out  his  rope  and  tied  me  to  a  hickory  sapling, 
and  said:  'Now  John,  I'm  going  to  give  you  a 
little  dressing  off  for  this,  Bob  Herndon  has  let 
the  cat  out  of  the  wallet;  of  course  he  is  the 
biggest  rascal  of  the  gang.'  Every  now  and  then 
he'd  stop,  and  ask  me  if  I  was  ready  to  own  up, 
but  he  soon  found  I  was  not,  and  turned  me 
loose  to  chopping  bushes  out  of  the  corn  again. 
About  twenty  years  after  that,  I  met  that  same 

80 


I'ncle  John  McGowan,  the  great  Broom  Maker. 


overseer  at  the  mill  one  rainy  day;  he  was  older, 
and  I  reckon  his  heart  had  softened,  and  we 
laughed  and  talked  over  that  chicken  fry,  and 
what  it  cost  me.  It  was  the  first  and  last  dis- 
honorable scrape  I  ever  got  into." 

Uncle  John  was  twice  married,  and  the  father 
of  several  highly  respected  sons,  and  daughters, 
several  of  whom  still  survive  him.  His  second 
son  by  his  first  marriage,  Rev.  Burnett  McGowan, 
is  a  Baptist  minister  of  some  prominence,  and 
owns  a  nice  little  home  near  Adams,  Tennessee. 
Uncle  John  was  an  expert  broom  maker,  and 
during  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life  he  made 
a  circuit  of  certain  sections  of  Robertson  and 
Montgomery  counties  about  three  times  a  year, 
delivering  his  brooms  to  his  old  customers,  who 
would  use  no  other  make  but  "The  John  McGowan 
brand."  They  were  honest  brooms,  and  lasted 
twice  as  long  as  the  factory  made  ones.  He  had 
a  business  way  of  distributing  broom  corn  seed 
among  his  customers  at  planting  time,  and  after 
the  corn  was  harvested,  he  would  follow  the 
crops,  and  make  up  the  brooms  on  the  shares. 

He  was  so  polite  and  pleasant  that  his  friends, 
both  white  and  colored,  made  him  welcome  in 
their  homes  free  of  charge,  a  week  or  ten  days  at 
a  time  during  the  broom  making  season.  He  was 
a  fine  judge  of  human  nature,  and  often  discussed 
81 


in  a  very  original  manner  the  characteristics  of 
the  famiHes  with  whom  he  stayed.  After  a  short 
illness  from  the  infirmities  of  old  age,  he  died  at 
the  home  of  his  son,  Rev.  Burnett  McGowan, 
August,  1910.  He  was  laid  to  rest  at  the  old 
E.  L.  Fort  homestead,  with  impressive  ceremonies 
by  Benevolent  Treasure  Lodge  No.  7,  of  which 
he  had  long  been  an  honored  member. 


82 


CHAPTER  X. 


"to  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind,  is  not 

TO  die." 


Before  pronouncing  the  benediction  in  this 
pleasant  meeting  with  old  familiar  faces,  I  must 
not  fail  to  say  more  of  the  kind  old  master  who 
was  as  respectful  to  his  dusky  body  servant  as 
to  his  proudest  peer,  and  who  could  penetrate 
color,  poverty,  and  untutored  speech,  and  find 
where  a  true  heart  lodged.  Eppa  Lawson  Fort 
was  bom  at  "Riverside,"  a  picturesque  homestead 
on  Red  River,  three  miles  southeast  of  Port  Royal, 
Tennessee,  August,  1802.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
prominent  Baptist  minister,  and  a  church  goer, 
but  strange  to  say,  during  a  pilgrimage  of  nearly 
ninety  years,  never  joined  a  church.  He  believed 
implicitly  in  God's  mercy,  and  when  approached 
by  friends,  on  the  subject  of  religion,  he  would 
assure  them  that  the  Lord  would  manifest  Himself 
to  him  in  a  way  that  he  would  understand,  when 
He  was  ready  for  him  to  enter  the  Christian  fold. 

83 


Mr.  Fort  was  twice  married,  the  first  time  to 
Miss  Virginia  Metcalfe,  of  Robertson  county,  and 
the  second  to  Miss  EHzabeth  Dancy,  of  Florence, 
Alabama.  Three  sons  blessed  his  first  marriage, 
and  a  son  and  daughter  his  last,  all  of  whom  are 
dead.  For  the  benefit  of  those  oi  my  readers 
who  knew  Mr.  Fort  and  his  last  wife,  I  give  below 
a  brief  sketch  of  family  history : 

The  Forts,  Dancys  and  Wimberlys  were  related, 
and  came  from  North  Carolina  to  Tennessee  at 
an  early  date.  The  first  Fort  family  settled  on 
Sulphur  Fork  Creek,  near  Beech  Valley  Mill,  at 
a  place  now  owned  by  Mr.  Plummer  Poole.  The 
Wimberlys  went  nearer  Clarksville,  on  Red  River, 
and  their  first  homestead  is  now  occupied  by  their 
descendants,  Messrs.  Joe  and  Alf  Killebrew,  of 
Rossview  neighborhood.  Esq.  William  E.  Dancy 
located  near  Dunbar's  Cave,  but  later  moved  to 
Florence,  Alabama,  carrying  with  him  a  number 
of  valuable  slaves,  and  a  family  consisting  of  his 
wife  and  three  small  children,  Caroline,  Elizabeth 
and  John.  It  was  before  the  day  of  railroads,  and 
all  the  visiting  between  the  Tennessee  and  Alabama 
relatives  was  done  on  horseback,  covering  a 
period  of  several  days'  journey.  During  the  30 's 
little  Caroline  and  Elizabeth  had  grown  to  young 
ladyhood  and  accompanied  by  a  younger  brother, 
they  came  to  visit  the  Wimberlys.     They  found 

84 


Mr.  Fort  a  gay  yoiing  widower,  and  he  found 
Miss  Elizabeth  Dancy  a  charming  young  lady. 
A  few  months  prior  to  this,  he  had  paid  his 
addresses  to  a  popular  young  lady  of  Port  Royal, 
and  they  were  engaged,  but  by  dint  of  accident 
he  learned  from  a  reliable  source  that  she  had 
said  publicly  that  she  did  not  intend  to  be  bothered 
with  his  three  little  boys,  so  he  frankly  informed 
her  that  his  children  were  first,  and  released  her. 
After  spending  several  weeks  in  Tennessee,  as 
the  time  had  come  for  the  Dancy  girls  to  rettirn 
to  Alabama,  Mr.  Fort  asked  the  privilege  of 
escorting  them,  by  saying  he  had  not  seen  "Cousin 
Nancy,"  their  mother,  in  a  long  time,  and  that 
she  was  his  favorite  relative.  The  old  folks  saw 
clearly  through  it  all,  and  were  pleased,  and  after 
a  two  weeks'  visit  Mr.  Fort  returned  home,  with 
the  prospect  of  being  their  son-in-law  some  time 
during  the  coming  year. 

h.  The  three  sweet  little  motherless  boys,  Jack, 
Ilai  and  Sugg,  in  the  meantime  were  being  ten- 
derly cared  for  by  their  mother's  relatives.  A 
year  sped  quickly  by;  a  black  broadcloth  wedding 
suit  was  packed  in  a  pair  of  leather  saddle  bags, 
and  mounted  on  a  handsome  dajjpled  gray  horse, 
Mr.  Fort  set  his  face  southward,  with  bright 
anticipations.  A  letter  had  preceded  him,  telling 
them  what  day  to  expect  him;  it  was  before  the 

85 


time  of  sewing  machines,  and  the  bridesmaids, 
Hannah  and  Lute  Barton,  had  been  in  the  Dancy 
home  several  days  making  the  wedding  dresses; 
they  and  the  bride  were  to  be  dressed  aUke,  in 
white  mushn,  flounced  to  the  waist,  and  flounces 
bound  with  white  satin  ribbon.  Esq.  Dancy 
Hved  on  what  was  known  as  "The  Mihtary  Road," 
cut  out  by  Andrew  Jackson  during  the  Creek 
War,  and  horsemen  could  be  seen  a  long  way  ofl. 

Toward  sunset  a  member  of  the  family  looked 
up  the  road  and  exclaimed,  "Yonder  comes  the 
Tennessee  widower!"  and  they  all  ran  out  to  meet 
him.  He  set  his  saddle  bags  in  the  hall,  and 
incidentally  mentioned  their  contents,  whereupon 
the  bride  elect  took  out  the  broadcloth  suit  and 
neatly  folded  it  away  in  a  bureau  drawer  in  her 
room.  In  those  days  there  were  no  trunks,  but 
few  spare  rooms,  and  no  foolish  conventionalities. 
Along  with  the  clothes  was  a  fine  pair  of  No.  5 
pump  sole  shoes,  to  be  worn  on  the  wedding 
occasion.  Mr.  Fort  had  a  small,  shapely  foot, 
and  it  was  said  the  young  ladies  in  the  Dancy 
home,  assisting  the  bride  in  her  preparation  for 
the  wedding,  would  go  every  now  and  then  and 
peep  admiringly  at  those  dainty  pumps  in  the 
bureau  drawer. 

Mr.  Dancy  made  his  daughter  a  bridal  present 
of  a  nice  black  saddle  horse,  called  "Indian,"  and 

86 


when  they  turned  their  faces  toward  Tennessee, 
mounted  on  this  black  and  white  steeds,  it  must 
have  been  an  interesting  picture.  Seventy  odd 
years  ago,  think  of  the  changes! 

For  her  travehng  suit,  the  bride  wore  a  purple 
marino  riding  habit,  made  with  long  pointed 
tight  waist,  with  hooks  and  eyes  beneath  the 
waist  line  imderneath,  by  which  it  could  be 
temporarily  shortened  and  converted  into  a  walk- 
ing suit,  thereby  saving  her  the  trouble  of  dressing 
when  they  took  lodging  at  the  wayside  inns  or 
taverns,  as  they  were  called.  (It  will  be  remem- 
bered that  a  bridal  wardrobe  folded  in  saddle 
pockets  afforded  but  few  dresses  for  change.)  A 
shaker  straw  bonnet,  with  a  green  berege  frill,  or 
skirt,  completed  her  outfit. 

The  headpiece  of  these  Shaker  bonnets,  or 
"scoops,"  as  they  were  called,  were  shaped  some- 
thing like  the  cover  of  an  emigrant's  wagon,  and 
were  anything  but  pleasant  to  wear  in  warm 
weather. 

On  reaching  the  Tennessee  River,  Mr.  Fort's 
fine  gray  horse  grew  stubborn,  and  refused  to 
step  into  the  large  ferry  boat,  and  had  to  be 
blindfolded.  The  trip  was  a  long  and  tiresome 
one,  and  the  bride  was  laid  up  for  repairs  over  a 
week;  the  scorching  July  sun  had  dealt  roughly 
with  her  delicate  complexion,  and  before  she  was 
87 


aware  of  it,  the  back  of  her  neck  was  deeply 
bhstered  from  the  sun  shining  through  the  thin 
berege  skirt  of  her  Shaker  bonnet. 

The  faithful  servants  did  all  in  their  power  to 
make  her  feel  at  home;  then  and  there  an  ideal 
home  life  began,  and  Mr.  Fort  was  a  prime  factor 
in  making  it  so. 

The  following  amusing  story  was  often  told  of 
him:  He  had  a  nice  herd  of  dairy  cows,  and 
among  them  was  one  they  called  "Stately,"  the 
bell  cow.  Aunt  Margaret  was  the  milk  maid, 
and  she  always  carried  along  with  her  to  the  cow 
pen  her  ten-year-old  son,  Nelson,  "to  keep  the 
calves  off,"  as  they  termed  it.  One  summer 
evening  about  sunset,  the  family  were  seated  on 
the  front  gallery,  Mr.  Fort,  his  wife,  and  their 
youngest  son,  the  late  W.  D.  Fort.  They  were 
quietly  discussing  the  expected  arrival  next  day 
of  some  favorite  relatives  from  Paris,  Texas,  Dr. 
Joe  Fort's  family. 

Suddenly  Nelson  appeared  on  the  scene,  and 
in  breathless  excitement  exclaimed,  "Mars  Law- 
son,  old  Stately  poked  her  head  in  a  wagon  wheel 
up  at  the  lot,  and  she  can't  get  it  out,  and  mammy 
says  what  must  she  do  about  it?" 

Mr.  Fort  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  on  the  impulse 
of  the  moment  said,  "Tell  one  of  the  men  up  at 
the  lot  feeding,  to  get  an  axe  and  cut  her  fool 


Revs.  F.  C.  Plaster,  and  W.  S.  Adams,  who  assisted 

in  Rev.  Horace  Carr's  ordination  at  Old  Red 

River  Church,   before  the  Civil  War. 


head  off,  quick!"  It  was  too  good  to  keep,  and 
his  son  treasured  it  as  a  household  joke,  which 
he  enjoyed  telhng  on  his  kind  old  father,  along 
with  many  others  equally  as  amusing. 

But  the  happy  old  Riverside  home  was  to 
undergo  changes.  After  a  few  days  illness,  from 
the  infirmities  of  old  age,  Mr.  Fort  quietly  fell 
asleep,  July  12,  1891.  His  remains  were  laid  to 
rest  with  Masonic  honors  at  the  old  Metcalfe 
burying  ground  on  Elk  Fork  Creek,  near  Sadlers- 
ville,  Tenn. 

His  family  feasted  on  his  affections,  and  his 
friends  enjoyed  the  wealth  of  his  noble  nature. 

:}:  s}!  *  *  H:  Hs  * 

Since  the  lives  of  most  of  the  good  people 
mentioned  in  this  little  story  centered  around 
Port  Royal,  I  deem  it  not  amiss  to  tell  something 
of  this  historic  spot. 

Nearly  four  generations  have  passed  since  this 
village,  which  tradition  tells  us,  lacked  only  one 
vote  of  being  the  Capitol  of  the  State,  was  settled. 
In  1789,  Samuel  Wilcox,  of  Port  Royal,  South 
Carolina,  came  with  his  small  family  and  settled 
near  a  large  spring,  on  the  left  bank  of  Red 
River,  at  the  foot  of  a  ridge  called  "The  Devil's 
Backbone."  The  exact  location  may  be  better 
known  today  by  pointing  the  reader  to  a  slight 
elevation  on  the  far  side  of  W.  N.  Gaines'  bottom 


eld,  lying  between  his  "Hill  Top"  home  and 
Sulphur  Fork  Creek,  nearly  opposite  the  old 
Weatheriord  mill  site. 

Located  as  he  was,  between  Red  River  on  the 
one  side  and  Sulphur  Fork  Creek  on  the  other, 
he  soon  realized  his  mistake,  for  during  the  high 
water  season  a  vast  area  of  this  level  tract,  inchid- 
ing  his  home,  was  subject  to  overflow. 

So  he  crossed  over  Sulphur  Fork  Creek  a  few 
hundred  yards  northwest,  to  a  picturesque  point 
where  the  creek  empties  into  Red  River,  and  built 
a  primitive  residence,  and  a  blacksmith  shop,  and 
called  the  place  Port  Royal,  in  honor  of  his  native 
town  in  South  Carolina.  Mr.  Wilcox  later  on 
entered  about\  one  thousand  acres  of  land  three 
or  four  miles  from  Port  Royal,  on  the  Graysville 
road  leading  to  Kentucky.  A  portion  of  his 
original  purchase  is  now  owned  by  Mr.  Polk 
Prince,  of  District  No.   1,  Montgomery  county. 

This  was  the  first  permanent  settlement  made 
at  Port  Royal.  But  fourteen  years  earlier,  1775, 
the  historian  tells  us  of  tragic  scenes  enacted 
thereabouts,  as  follows: 

"A  famous  hunter  by  the  name  of  Manscoe, 
and  three  companions,  camped  a  few  weeks  near 
where  Sulphur  Fork  Creek  empties  into  Red 
River,  and  here  Manscoe  had  an  adventure  with 
some  Indians.  Having  discovered  from  their 
90 


trail,  that  a  hunting  party  ©f  some  sort  was  in 
the  vicinity,  he  went  alone  to  ascertain  if  possible 
who  they  were. 

"On  the  bank  of  the  river,  he  saw  a  camp|fire, 
and  creeping  as  close  as  he  dared,  he  saw  two 
Indians,  whom  he  recognized  as  belonging  to  the 
Black  Feet  tribe.  Manscoe  was  about  to  retire 
to  carry  the  news  to  his  companions,  when  one 
of  the  Indians  arose  and  came  directly  toward 
him.  Manscoe  fired,  and  the  Indian  wheeled  and 
ran  about  fifty  yards  past  his  own  camp  fire  and 
fell  dead  over  the  bluff  into  the  river.  The  other 
Indian  made  quick  time  away  from  the  fatal 
spot,  not  knowing,  it  was  supposed,  how  many 
whites  were  in  the  attacking  party.  Manscoe  not 
knowing  the  number  of  savages,  beat  a  hasty 
retreat  also.  Joining  his  comrades,  he  returned 
in  a  few  hours,  accompanied  by  them,  to  find  the 
fugitive  Indian  had,  in  the  meantime,  been  to  his 
camp,  packed  his  scant  belongings  on  his  pony, 
and  left  for  parts  unknown.  They  followed  close 
on  his  trail,  the  remainder  of  the  day,  but  never 
found  him. 

"Knowing  that  the  Indians  would  soon  return 
in  full  force  to  avenge  the  death  of  their  comrade, 
Manscoe  and  his  party  left  the  country  within 
the  next  few  hours,  but  terribly  was  the  death 
of  this  Indian  afterwards  avenged.     In  1794,  ten 

91 


3^ears  after  Clarksville,  Tenn.,  had  been  incor- 
porated and  named,  Col.  Isaac  Titsworth,  and 
his  brother  John,  with  their  famihes,  moved  from 
North  Carohna  to  the  Cumberland  country.  They 
intended  locating  on  Red  River,  and  on  the  night 
of  Octol')er  24,  1794,  camped  at  the  mouth  of 
Sulphur  Fork  Creek,  near  where  the  Indian  had 
been  shot  by  Manscoe.  That  night  a  party  of 
fifty  Creek  Indians  stole  upon  them,  taking  them 
completely  by  surprise.  Seven  of  the  party, 
including  Col.  Titsworth  and  his  brother,  and 
their  wives  were  killed  and  scalped.  A  negro 
woman  was  badly  wounded,  but  crawled  off  in 
the  woods  and  escaped.  The  Indians  carried  off 
six  prisoners,  a  negro  man,  a  white  man,  a  grown 
daughter  of  Col.  Titsworth,  and  three  little 
children.  Great  excitement  reigned,  and  in  a 
few  hours  a  party  of  white  men  was  organized 
and  on  their  trail.  The  Indians  discovering'their 
approach,  tomahawked  the  children  and  scalped 
them,  taking  off  the  whole  skins  of  their  heads. 
The  white  man  and  the  negro,  they  either  killed 
or  carried  off  with  their  daughter;  none  of  the 
three  were  ever  heard  from." 

As  far  back  as  1807,  the  citizenship  of  Port 
Ro}'al  received  favorable  comment,  as  the  follow- 
ing from  "The  Life  and  Times  of  Elder  Reuben 
Ross,"  will  show:. 

.92 


"Although  not  a  great  deal  could  be  said  in 
praise  of  the  small  village  of  Port  Royal,  in  itself, 
near  which  we  are  now  living,  it  would  be  safe  to 
say,  no  finer  citizenship  could  have  been  found 
anywhere  at  this  time  than  in  the  country  around 
it,  extending  into  Robertson  and  Montgomery 
counties.  In  evidence  of  this,  one  need  only  to 
mention  such  names  as  Fort,  Norfleet,  North- 
ington,  Dortch,  Baker,  Cheatham,  Washington, 
Bryant,  Turner,  Blount  (Gov.  Willie  Blount), 
Johnson,  and  others.  They  were  generally  men 
of  large  stature,  dignified  and  patriarchal  in  their 
bearing,  many  of  them  wealthy,  very  hospitable, 
and  always  ready  to  assist  those  who  needed 
assistance,  especially  strangers  who  came  to  settle 
among  them." 

While  the  lordly  old  masters  have  drifted  away 
with  the  "days  that  are  dust,"  the  posterity  of  a 
fine  antebellum  citizenship  ligners  yet  with  us  to 
bless  and  beautify  the  hills  and  vales  of  dear  old 
Port  Royal. 


93 


CHAPTER  XL 


THERE  IS  NO  DEATH,  WHAT  SEEMS  SO,  IS  TRAN- 
SITION. THIS  LIFE  OF  MORTAL  BREATH,  IS  BUT 
A  SUBURB  OF  THE  LIFE  ELYSIAN,  WHOSE  PORTAL 
WE  CALL  DEATH. 


Of  the  four  most  prominent  members  of  the 
Carr  family,  mentioned  in  the  foregoing  chapters, 
it  is  a  fact  worthy  of  note  that  each  passed  from 
earth  from  as  many  different  States.  Uncle 
Horace,  the  first  to  go,  died  near  Port  Royal,  at 
his  humble  home  on  the  Weatherford  farm, 
September,  1877. 

Rev.  Altheus  Carr  died,  after  a  short  illness 
from  fever,  at  Topeka,  Kansas,  October,  LSSG. 
He  had  been  called  to  Kansas  to  assist  in  a  revival, 
and  fell,  as  it  were,  at  the  foot  of  an  unfinished 
work.  His  remains  vvere  brought  back  to  Ten- 
nessee, and  laid  to  rest  at  Mount  Zion,  beside 
those  of  his  father.  The  burial  of  no  colored 
citizen  in  this  section  was  ever  so  largely  attended 
or  greater  demonstration  of  deep  sorrow  over  the 
94 


passing  of  a  Christian  leader,  whose  place  in  many 
respects  has  never  been  filled.  His  funeral  ora- 
tions were  delivered  by  Revs.  Houston  Metcalfe, 
of  Clarksville,  Tenn.,  and  P.  Barker,  of  Guthrie, 
Ky.  The  latter  afterward  went  as  a  missionary 
to  Africa. 

Aunt  Kitty,  after  a  short  illness  from  pneu- 
monia, died  October,  1904,  at  the  home  of  her 
daughter-in-law,  Mrs.  Margaret  Manier,  of  Guthrie, 
Kentucky. 

As  before  stated,  Rev.  William  Carr  died  at 
Savannah,  Georgia,  August,  1907. 

Geographically  speaking,  their  bodies,  at  disso- 
lution were  widely  sundered,  but  their  kindred 
spirits  mingled  in  sweet  communion  around  the 
same  Great  White  Throne. 

Of  a  family  of  thirteen  children,  only  two  are 
living,  Horace  Carr,  a  good  citizen  of  District 
No.  1,  Montgomery  county,  Tenn.,  and  his  older 
sister,  Mrs.  Mary  Waters,  of  Ohio. 

The  remainder  of  this  chapter  will  be  devoted 
to  the  Carneys,  a  family  of  colored  citizens  whose 
deeds  should  not  be  forgotten  by  those  who 
properly  appreciate  the  loyalty  of  high  class  ante- 
bellum negroes. 

I  Vv'ill  first  speak  briefly  of  the  kind  old  master. 
Captain  C.  N.  Carney  was  born  in  Halifax  county, 
North  Carolina,  August  15th,  1782,  and  came  to 
95 


Tennessee  in  1808.  He  was  married  March  11th, 
1824,  to  Elizabeth  Johnson,  of  Fortson's  Spring 
neighborhood.  District  No.  1,  Montgomery  county. 
There  were  no  children  by  his  first  marriage.  He 
was  married  the  second  time,  1848,  to  Miss  Mar- 
garet C.  Lynn,  of  east  Montgomery  county. 
Three  sons  blessed  this  union,  viz:  Richard  Rod- 
ney, Thomas,  and  Norfleet  Lynn.  The  first  and 
last  named  still  survive,  and  like  their  father, 
rank  among  the  best  citizens  of  the  State.  To 
them  the  writer  is  indebted  for  valuable  local 
history  gleaned  by  them  from  the  early  settlers 
of  this  country,  with  whom,  by  ties  of  blood,  they 
were  intimately  associated. 

The  Northingtons,  Johnsons,  Neblets,  etc. 

Captain  Carney  descended  from  the  old  Revo- 
lutionary stock,  being  the  grandson  of  General 
Richard  Rodney.  The  latter 's  sword  is  a  cher- 
ished heirloom  in  the  family,  being  owned  by  his 
namesake,  R.  R.  Carney,  of  Port  Royal,  Tenn., 
who  placed  it  for  safe  keeping  with  his  brother, 
Dr.  N.  L.  Carney,  of  Clarksville,  Tenn. 

Captain  Carney  owned  a  large  number  of 
valuable  slaves,  and  a  nice  plantation  on  Parson's 
Creek,  in  District  No.  5,  Montgomery  county. 
He  was  kind  to  his  negroes,  and  they  in  turn  were 
of  a  high  order  of  principle,  that  responded  to 
kind  treatment.     After  a  short  illness  from  senile 

96 


Hall  of  Benevolent  Treasure  No.  7,  near 
Port  Royal,  Tennessee. 


infirmities,  Captain  Carney  died  January,  1862, 
leaving  his  widow  and  two  little  boys  at  the  old 
homestead,  unprotected,  save  by  these  faithful 
family  servants.  Throughout  the  excitement  inci- 
dent to  the  Civil  War,  they  stood  true  to  the 
post  of  duty,  as  the  following  incident  will  show. 
Uncle  Isaac  Carney,  the  colored  blacksmith  on 
the  premises,  worked  for  the  surrounding  country 
and  people  of  every  type  came  to  his  shop.  One 
day  a  man  rode  up  to  the  door  on  a  fine  young 
horse,  that  was  tender  footed  and  jaded,  almost 
to  the  point  of  falling  in  its  tracks.  The  rider 
dismounted  and  ordered  it  shod  as  quickly  as 
possible.  After  it  was  done  he  drew  from  his 
purse  a  $20.00  greenback  bill  to  settle.  Not 
keeping  that  amount  of  maney  at  the  shop  in  war 
times,  the  bill  could  not  be  changed,  and  the 
stranger  persisted  in  going  to  the  house  for  it. 
Knowing  a  timid  woman  would  be  frightened  by 
the  appearance  of  such  a  looking  stranger,  Uncle 
Isaac  accompanied  him,  with  his  hammer  in  his 
hand.  They  changed  the  money,  and  on  their 
return  to  the  shop  they  were  surprised  to  find 
Captain  Zachary  Grant,  Mr.  S.  H.  Northington, 
and  Mr.  C.  Daniel  waiting  to  arrest  the  guerilla 
horse  thief,  who  had  stolen  the  fine  horse  from 
a  gentleman  of  Elkton,  Ky.  He  was  never  again 
seen,  or  heard  from  in  this  section,  and  it  was 
97 


supposed  they  made  a  proper  disposition  of  him. 

Uncle  Isaac  was  born  in  North  Carohna,  Feb- 
ruary 16,  1804,  and  had  a  vivid  recollection  of 
things  that  took  place  soon  after  coming  to 
Tennessee  in  180S.  During  the  war,  when  South- 
ern homes  were  looted  of  valuables,  Mrs.  Carney 
entrusted  her  silverware  and  all  moneys  not 
needed  by  her,  often  as  much  as  a  thousand 
dollars,  to  Uncle  Isaac,  who  dug  a  hole  under  his 
cabin  floor  and  deposited  same,  which  he  guarded 
with  vigilant  care. 

When  it  seemed  necessary  for  Confederate 
recruiting  officers  to  remain  clandestinely  in  this 
section,  for  weeks  at  a  time,  Uncle  Isaac  often 
shod  their  horses,  but  in  no  instance  was  he  ever 
known  to  betray  one.  He  told  of  one  occasion 
in  which  he  felt  some  uneasiness.  Late  one 
evening,  he  was  going  by  way  of  Sugar  Camp 
branch  to  Bennett's  distillery  for  a  jug  of  whiskey 
when  he  heard  threatning  voices  from  a  thick 
undergrowth  near  the  roadside.  A  new  set  of 
recruiting  officers  had  recently  come  in,  and  it 
happened  to  be  one  of  these,  who  first  saw  him, 
and  thinking  he  might  give  out  information  dan- 
gerous to  them,  they  were  about  to  sieze  him, 
when  one  of  the  older  ones,  who  knew  him,  came 
to  his  rescue,  and  told  them  to  let  him  pass  on, 
that  he  was  all  right. 

98 


Another  of  Captain  Carney's  valuable  servants 
was  Peter,  whom  he  brought  fom  Mr.  Richard 
Brown,  of  McAdoo.  Peter  was  a  Presbyterian 
preacher,  of  stout  build,  and  ginger  cake  color. 
He  was  a  man  of  very  nice  manners,  and  waited 
on  Captain  Carney,  when  he  officiated  at  the 
musters  and  military  parades.  Aunt  Sylvia  was 
his  wife.  They  raised  a  large  family  of  children, 
only  one  of  whom,  Frank  Carney,  of  Port  Royal, 
survives. 

On  account  of  certain  good  qualities,  Peter  was 
allowed  extra  privileges  over  the  average  colored 
citizen  of  his  day.  He  had  what  was  termed  a 
"general  pass,"  permitting  him  to  go  where  and 
when  he  pleased,  unmolested  by  patrolers.  He 
owned  his  own  horse,  and  kept  a  shot  gun.  He 
did  the  neighborhood  marketing,  making  frequent 
trips  to  Clarksville,  carrying  the  produce  on  his 
horse,  there  being  but  few  vehicles  in  existence. 
When  in  Clarksville,  he  often  stopped  at  Hon. 
Cave  Johnsons,  a  warm  personal  friend  of  his 
master's,  or  with  Col.  George  Smith,  proprietor 
of  the  old  National  Hotel,  below  where  the 
Franklin  House  now  stands.  The  last  trip  he 
ever  made  to  Clarksville,  he  drove  the  carriage 
for  Mrs.  Carney,  and  Mrs.  Dr.  N.  L.  Northington. 

Apropos  of  colored  ministers,  Mrs.  George  F. 
Adams,    one   of  the   best   Christian   women   that 

99 


ever  blessed  any  community,  once  remarked  to 
the  writer,  that  she  had  never  witnessed  a  more 
impressive  antebellum  picture,  than  that  of  three 
devout  colored  divines,  all  of  different  denomina- 
tions, seated  side  by  side  one  night  at  old  Baker's 
camp  meeting,  listening  to  a  soul-stirring  sermon 
from  Dr.  Jno.  W.  Hanner,  Sr.  Rev.  Horace  Carr, 
Baptest;  Rev.  Martin  Grant,  Methodist,  and  Rev. 
Peter  Carney,  Cumberland  Presbyterian.  They 
cared  little  for  creeds,  and  in  their  humble  way 
preached  Christ,  and  Him  crucified. 

The  last  record  made  by  Captain  C.  N.  Carney 
of  the  birth  of  his  family  servants,  was  that  of 
Aleck,  a  valuable,  bright  colored  man,  born  March 
30th,  1840.  When  the  Civil  War  broke  out,  Aleck 
was  just  twenty-one,  and  a  man  of  fine  appearance. 
In  1863,  he  and  a  fellow  servant,  Caesar  Carney, 
were  pressed  into  service  to  work  on  a  Federal 
fort  at  New  Providence,  Tenn.  They  were  retain- 
ed three  months.  While  employed  at  work  raising 
a  steamboat  sunk  by  the  Confederates  in  Harpeth 
River,  Ca:sar  ran  away  and  came  home,  and 
through  the  influence  of  good  friends  in  Clarks- 
ville,  who  knew  Col.  Bruce,  the  Federal  officer 
in  command,  Mrs.  Carney  secured  the  release  of 
Aleck,  who  gladly  returned  home  and  took  up 
his  work  with  Uncle  Isaac  in  the  blacksmith 
shop.     Aleck  is  still  in  the  land  of  the  living;  he 

100 


owns  a  comfortable  little  home  on  the  Port  Royal 
road  leading  to  Clarksville,  from  which,  by  the 
assistance  of  his  son,  he  conducts  a  successful 
blacksmith  trade,  and  strange  to  say,  in  his  shop 
may  be  seen  many  of  the  tools  he  bought  at  the 
Carney  sale,  some  of  which  have  been  in  use  over 
a  century. 

Among  the  Carney  colored  people,  none  ranked 
above  Betsy,  Aleck's  sister,  a  fine  looking  yellow 
woman,  who  married  Dennis  Neblett,  previously 
mentioned.  No  kinder  heart  ever  beat  in  human 
breast  than  that  of  Betsy  Carney-Neblett.  She 
was  a  fine  nurse,  and  would  lay  aside  her  home 
work  any  day  to  minister  to  the  afflicted  of  her 
neighborhood,  and  when  asked  her  charges  for 
same,  would  say,  "I  make  no  charges  for  Christian 
duty." 

There  was  an  air  of  dignified  independence  in 
her  make  up,  that  attracted  even  the  casual 
observer.  For  instance,  she  would  go  to  church 
dressed  in  a  neat  plaid  cotton  dress,  a  large  house- 
keeper's apron,  and  plain  sailor  hat,  and  feel  as 
comfortable  as  if  clad  in  the  finest  fabrics.  As- 
sisted by  her  economy,  and  thrift,  her  worthy 
husband  was  enabled  to  buy  a  small  farm,  a 
portion  of  the  Carney  estate,  on  Parson's  Creek, 
known  as  the  Carney  Quarter. 

When  there  was  all-day  meeting  and  dinner 

101 


on  the  ground  at  Grant's  Chapel,  Betsy  and  Dennis 
often  went  along  to  take  charge  of  the  dinner 
for  some  special  friends,  as  Miss  Ellen  Yates, 
Mrs.  Dr.  Northington,  or  some  of  the  Grants. 
On  communion  days,  when  Rev.  J.  W.  CuUom 
was  pastor  in  charge,  he  never  failed  to  go  to  the 
church  door  and  extend  an  invitation  to  the 
colored  people  outside  to  go  in  and  partake  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  and  it  was  not  uncommon  to  see 
Betsy  and  Dennis  walk  reverently  down  the  aisle 
and  kneel  around  the  chancel.  After  a  long  and 
useful  life,  she  passed  away,  ten  or  fifteen  years 
ago,  and  her  body  was  laid  to  rest  on  the  hillside 
near  the  scene  of  her  birth. 

Henry  W.  Grady,  the  South 's  greatest  orator 
and  statesman,  in  a  speech  at  Boston,  Mass.,  a 
few  years  before  his  death,  gave  a  battlefield  expe- 
rience that  was  eloquently  pathetic.     He  said: 

"In  sad  memory  I  see  a  young  Confederate 
soldier  struck  by  a  fatal  bullet,  stagger  and  fall, 
and  I  see  a  black  and  shambling  figure  make  his 
way  through  a  throng  of  soldiers,  wind  his  loving 
arms  about  him,  and  bear  him  from  the  field  of 
carnage,  and  from  the  pale  lips  of  that  dying 
friend,  I  hear  a  feeble  voice  bidding  me  to  follow 
that  black  hero  and  protect  him,  if  he  ever  needed 
protection,  and  I  was  true  to  my  promise." 

We  who  love  Southern  soil,  and  cherish  Southern 

102 


tradition,  should  pause  now  and  then  and  pay 
due  tribute  not  only  to  the  worthy  living,  but 
to  the  faithful  colored  dead  "who  sleep  out  under 
the  stars!" 


103 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N  C  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 
llllllllllllllililllilllillllllllllll 


